


thunderlove

by adreamaloud, daneorange (adreamaloud)



Series: make it gold verse [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4395596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/adreamaloud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/daneorange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa first falls on Anya’s lap on a Tuesday, and Anya knows exactly when she should have started worrying, but didn’t.  Set in the make it gold ‘verse, picks up months after the wedding and goes back and forth in time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. challengers

**Author's Note:**

> Basically this whole thing has caught me off-guard. I would like to thank everyone who has expressed interest in a little exploration of this could-have-been, as well as those who are giving this a chance. It’s a pleasure to have you on this journey.
> 
> My eternal thanks to A, who is basically writing half this story with me. Thank you for letting me steal your lines. =)

I shout timber  
‘cause I am lumber  
falling down  
\- ohbijou, thunderlove

 

 

Raven knows.

It gnaws at Anya, like sharp little teeth nibbling along her brain stem, but it’s not like she can let it show; it’s not like Raven has even said anything, to begin with.

 _Fuck, maybe I’m just being paranoid,_ Anya thinks, letting her hands stay under the running water for a moment longer. She’s in the kitchen washing the dishes, and Raven’s in the bathroom, and it’s been days, weeks, _months_ since the wedding. Honeymoon’s long over, and they’re back to what Raven likes to lovingly call _the salt mines,_ and by that, she means she’s busy and stressed and snapping at Anya all the time.

Anya sighs, drying the glasses and stowing them carefully as she looks out the window. The lawn could use some attention. _Damn, why didn’t we just stick with fucking high rises?_ she thinks, her shoulders aching just thinking about how much has to be done, and _God, running a life is hard._ Anya laughs to herself a little, wondering where all this exhaustion is coming from, exactly.

Anya hears the bathroom door open and right on cue, she’s shutting the faucet in the kitchen and brushing past Raven at the narrow hallway connecting the kitchen to the rest of the house. Raven’s hair is damp, and she playfully nudges Anya with her hip as she gets close and Anya laughs, letting herself be pinned to the wall.

“Yes?” asks Anya, and Raven just sighs, nuzzling Anya’s neck for a bit before peeling herself off her, slowly. “Rough day at work?”

“You know how it goes,” she says, fiddling with the hem of Anya’s boxers – it’s _supposed_ to be sexy, but these days Anya feels strangely weighed down, and it’s not like Raven’s been _available_ in that respect, either. “Listen. Bellamy’s throwing a party for Octavia’s birthday at the bar—”

 _Here we go._ “And?”

“It’s this weekend, and I was thinking—”

Anya’s insides start churning and she turns away, hoping Raven misses the unmistakable look on her face. _Well, if you still haven’t been caught – now you would be._ “You were thinking?” she asks instead, tone careful.

“We haven’t seen Clarke and the gang since the wedding,” Raven points out. “I’m not sure what _exactly_ went down between you and Lexa on wedding night, but it’s about time it thawed, right?”

 _Thawed. Jesus._ Anya shakes her head, trying to move away from Raven. “We’re just busy,” says Anya. “I’m not even sure what this thing that needs _thawing_ is, exactly.”

“Look, I’m not blind,” Raven says, leaning against the opposite wall. “I know what it looks like when people are fighting, and just – she’s your friend, I know, but _she’s_ also dating _my friend,_ so I guess she kind of matters?”

Anya tries a little laugh. _Christ. She has no idea after all, has she?_ “Look. Lexa and I do this all the time, okay? We just – fall out of each other’s radars for a bit. It’s normal.” Anya’s lying through her teeth, of course, though she looks at Raven so intently that her lie goes through unexamined. _It’s not the first lie; not the last one, either._ It makes Anya somewhat sad, but she knows how some lies are necessary.

Raven takes a deep breath before rolling her eyes. “Fine. She’s _your_ friend. Just – don’t be too awkward this weekend, okay?”

“Raven—”

“Hey, if you’re not flying in with me, I am _not_ attending Octavia’s birthday. _At all._ ”

“Please be reasonable Raven, I have deadlines next week—”

“Octavia’s birthday is on a _Sunday._ Make time, all right?”

Before Anya could even say anything more, Raven has already walked to the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

 _Raven knows,_ Anya thinks, as she walks into the bathroom and switches the lights on. _What_ Raven knows exactly may be slightly different from what Anya does, but just the same, Raven has managed to walk Anya into a corner with it, so Anya guesses it does not really matter.

_Lexa first falls on Anya’s lap on a Tuesday, after a board meeting. Alexander Vine introduces his only daughter to the board as Alexandra, a somewhat-self-conscious finance major looking to be “formally introduced” to the business._

Of course _, Anya thinks._ Heir to the empire _. Anya notes with an amused smirk how the kid bristles at the sound of her name so obviously. Alexander casts Anya a warning look, which Anya receives with a nod and an effort to temper the smirk on her face. After a curt round of handshakes, Alexander gestures for Anya to follow him into his office, leaving Lexa to fend for herself._

_“An intern?” asks Anya, once she and her boss are alone in his office. “I don’t do interns.”_

_Alexander does not even look away from the window through which he is watching his daughter making idle small talk with Mrs Fox, though Anya can see the small smirk playing on his lips. “Show her the ropes, Ahn. I’m sure she could learn a lot from you.”_

_“Your kid’s into finance. Are you sure she isn’t better off in Accounting or Budget?”_

_“I want her to be groomed as CEO – not CFO.”_

_“But—”_

_“I trust you, Anya,” he says firmly, turning away from the window to give Anya a serious look, stepping closer with his arms crossed. “She’s yours now.”_

Yours _. Anya struggles against the word, the weight of it suddenly pressed down on her chest. She has only ever been used to fending for herself – how is she supposed to handle someone else? And her boss’s daughter at that._

_“What exactly are you expecting?” she asks._

_“Your patience.”_

_“Oh god, is your daughter going to be a handful?”_

_“My daughter is going to be_ my _daughter.”_

 _Anya groans. “Oh god,” she says in faux terror, watching the smile on her boss’s face morph into a full grin. “She’s going to be much_ worse _.”_

*

 _Lexa comes in with her father in the morning, and Anya watches as she strides into the office confidently, but not arrogantly – straddling that thin line between self-assured and outright haughty._ Hmm _, Anya thinks, sizing her up._ She takes after her father.

_“Alexandra,” calls Anya, not looking up from the file in her hand._

_“Call me Lexa.”_

_“Call me Anya,” she replies. “No ma’am, no miss. Just Anya.”_

_“Got it,” says Lexa, all too quietly that it actually surprises Anya, and only then does she look up to look Lexa in the eye. Lexa has her lips pressed together in a thin line, and up close, Anya can sense the slightest trepidation; it feels like Lexa doesn’t want to let her in on it, and that’s just fine._

_“I don’t know what exactly your father has told you before coming here,” she begins. “Or what his expectations are from you. But I have received my marching orders, and here you are.”_

_“I am ready for anything,” says Lexa, clenching her jaw. “I’m here to learn. As much as I can.”_

_“Are you now?”_

_There’s a flash in Lexa’s eye at Anya’s challenge._ There you are. _“Try me,” says Lexa, and Anya actually laughs out loud. “What’s so funny?”_

_Anya shakes her head. “Nothing,” she says. “Just – you make it sound like we’re going to fucking war, or something. Relax. It’s just an office, and I’m not your commander.”_

_Lexa manages a small smile, finally, though her shoulders do not relax. “Sorry,” she offers. “I can get a little intense sometimes.”_

_“So your father has warned.”_

_“He has?” Lexa perks up at that, eyes shining. “What has he been telling you about me?”_

_“Only the good stuff, don’t worry,” says Anya, shutting her folder and putting it away. “So. How do you want to start?”_

_*_

_Lexa shadows Anya in meetings -- a quiet but efficient presence, which Anya likes. She rarely speaks, except to ask questions, though when she gets started, she does get quite inquisitive. Anya doesn’t mind; this business is built on questions – more importantly, asking the right ones. That Alexander Vine has raised an inquisitive child does not surprise her._

_Anya starts with the basics, entrusting Lexa with minutes of meetings and her father’s correspondences. She sorts through the mail and files the rest of her father’s documents. Anya observes from afar, rarely bothering to speak – most times Lexa seems to get it just by_ looking _and Anya wonders briefly if the kid is telepathic._

_Often, Lexa goes through her father’s subscriptions, scouring the pages intently, her brows furrowed in concentration. It doesn’t take too long for Anya to notice how she is more interested in reading newspapers than spreadsheets._

_“You ever considered going to journalism school?”_

_Lexa turns one more page before replying. “Thought about it. Couldn’t go through with it.”_

_“Why is that?”_

_Lexa smiles – the gesture so small that may very well be only for herself. “You’ll be surprised just how heavy this surname is.”_

_“Oh?” asks Anya, pretending to be unaware. It’s a weight she knows too well, after all – this job has been more a burden than a perk._

_“Too many expectations,” Lexa just says, shrugging helplessly. “Would rather go somewhere less… stifling.”_

_“So. Finance then?”_

_“Still useful, isn’t it?”_

_“Definitely,” says Anya. “Not everyone who runs this paper is a journalist.”_

_“Are_ you _a journalist?”_

_Anya smiles. “Sometimes.”_

_“How is anyone only_ sometimes _a journalist?” asks Lexa, smiling herself._

 _“Externally, I am – it’s what people…_ expect _. Much of this business is about keeping up appearances.”_

_“Deception, you mean?”_

_Anya shrugs. “People think what they want to think.”_

_“And you do nothing to correct them?”_

_“People are wrong about a lot of things – about us, about what we do. Life is unfortunately too short to spend correcting people’s misconceptions about every little thing.”_

_“But journalism is about truth-telling.”_

_“Journalism has its priorities,” Anya says. Lexa opens her mouth to say something more, but she backtracks on that and keeps quiet. “If you want, we have a journalism short course. Took it myself as a new employee.”_

_“I don’t really see myself as a journalist—”_

_“You don’t have to. You just have to give it a chance.”_

_Lexa is silent for moment, like she is mulling over Anya’s suggestion in her head. “Did it make you want to write?”_

_Anya shakes her head. “It made me want to stay,” she says instead. “So. If you want.”_

_Lexa purses her lips before: “You just want me out of your hair for three weeks.”_

_“Don’t tell your dad.”_

_*_

_The next time Anya sees Lexa, it is days later, after-office hours. Anya spies her in her father’s office, hunched over her laptop, brows furrowed; the tip of her pen between her teeth._

_“Lexa,” Anya calls out softly, knocking on the wall to alert her. Lexa looks up, tugging at her earbuds and looking up. She’s wearing glasses that Anya doesn’t remember from when they first met. “It’s late. How are you still here?”_

_“Homework,” says Lexa, gesturing to her laptop. “For a non-compulsory course, it sure has a lot of requirements.”_

_“The in-house training center does take its work quite seriously.”_

_“What a bunch of sadists,” Lexa replies, a small smile on her face. “This is exactly why I did not take up journalism.”_

_“Because the industry is filled with sadists?”_

_“Because of all this writing,” says Lexa. “Though, all right. The sadists, too.”_

_Anya smirks, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe, still a few steps from where Lexa’s seated. “Numbers over words?”_

_“At least numbers add up,” says Lexa, shrugging. “Words are just complicated.”_

_“Writing can be learned, just like anything else.”_

_“I don’t dispute that,” Lexa says, turning back to her laptop. “But I’m afraid the learning curve is quite steep.”_

_Anya glances over at the clock hanging behind Lexa – almost eleven. “It’s late. When is that due?”_

_“Tomorrow morning.”_

_Anya tut-tuts before taking the seat across Lexa. “You shouldn’t have put this homework off.”_

_Lexa’s eyes flash angrily, though she does not take them off her screen. “For your information, I just got wind of this assignment earlier today.”_

_“Ah,” says Anya. “My bad. How can I help?”_

_“It’s an_ individual _assignment.”_

_“Says who?”_

_Lexa pauses to look up from her screen, straining to keep the annoyance out of her tone. “I_ need _to focus.”_

_“All right,” says Anya, leaning back into her seat, hands behind her head. “My offer stands.”_

_Lexa shakes her head and just keeps typing in silence, and Anya watches her from the seat across, amused at her stubbornness, and, quite frankly, somewhat intrigued at what has Lexa so… engrossed. And challenged._

_“What’s your assignment?” Anya prods, just to be difficult._

_“Anya, please.”_

_“Tell you what – let me help you, let’s finish your homework, then I can drive you home. Deal?”_

_“What?” Lexa lowers her laptop screen, if only to be able to look at Anya better. “That isn’t—that’s not necessary at all,” she says, and for a moment there, Anya thinks that Lexa is actually_ flustered _. “I mean – I can get home just fine, thank you.”_

_“It’s late. I’m not about to leave the owner’s child alone in this place at this hour.”_

_Lexa breathes out, a slight pout grazing her lips. Anya keeps her mouth shut and tries to keep from making a sound. “Suit yourself,” says Lexa, lifting her screen back up, fingers poised at her keyboard._

Stubborn _, Anya just thinks, noting how, as time wears on, she sees little and little of Alexander Vine and more and more of_ herself _._

_Anya knows that should have been a cause for concern, right from the very start, but in that moment she just chooses to ignore it. (A costly oversight as any, but one that would only hit her many, many years later.)_

 

 

It’s raining in the city when they land at the airport, and Anya keeps her lips pressed together in disapproval as Raven calls Clarke to tell them that they have landed. Anya would have just preferred to take a cab straight from the airport to their hotel instead of asking Raven’s friends to fetch them.

_Raven’s friend Clarke, in particular._

_Because that friend necessarily has Lexa in tow._

_Fuck._ Anya looks up, staring at the heavy clouds hanging just outside. _Some fucking cooperative weather this is,_ she thinks glumly, watching from a distance as Raven laughs into her phone. _God she’s missed Clarke so much,_ Anya thinks, and somewhere in her chest, there is a slight twinge.

Of course, she misses Lexa.

Of course, either way, Anya feels guilty.

“You all right, hon?” Raven turns to her as she ends her call, and Anya takes a moment to compose herself. _Wear it on your sleeve, why won’t you?_ “Clarke is on her way.”

“We could have taken a cab,” says Anya, not entirely intending the way it comes out. “I mean,” she tries amending, off the frown on Raven’s face. “I didn’t want to have to _ask_ Clarke to drive in this weather.”

“Have you seen the taxi queue?” Raven sighs, and Anya _knows_ that tone. She takes a deep breath, getting ready to retreat. “Besides, it’s not like Clarke’s _driving_ , in the first place.”

Anya tries to dismiss the chill that wraps around her bones. _It’s the weather._ “Fine,” she says, shrugging, digging her hands into her pockets. “How is Clarke?”

Raven nods, smiling. “She’s good. _Excited._ Bellamy’s got this whole thing at the bar set up for Octavia.”

“Does she know?”

“I think he’s in cahoots with Lincoln, who is in charge of _distraction._ ”

“Ah.” Anya finds herself nodding and smiling in kind. _These children._ “I take it we’re drinking our weight in alcohol at Octavia’s party.”

Raven laughs; it echoes over the rumble of distant thunder. “Maybe our weight and a _half,_ ” she says, and Anya finds herself laughing along, the feeling finally coming _easy,_ and Anya lets out a long breath. Outside, the rain is still pouring, the scene beyond the airport lounge barely visible as the storm came down in nearly opaque sheets.

Anya looks at her watch, worried. _If Lexa is driving in this weather._

“Lexa’s driving pretty slowly,” says Raven, and _god,_ it’s these little things that make Anya jump out of her skin. “Storm and all.”

“We should have let it die down,” Anya says. “The rain, I meant.” _Of course, it’s the rain. What else was there to be left out to die?_

“They’ll be _fine._ ”

Anya paces, fiddling with her phone in her pocket. _No, we are definitely not calling,_ she tells herself, scratching the edge of the device with a fingernail before pulling her hand out. When she looks around, Raven’s already found space beside an electrical socket, her laptop now open, and Anya just sighs at the sight before turning to keep her eyes on the arrivals bay.

Their ride arrives about half an hour later, rolling slowly to a stop underneath one of the canopies – unmistakably one of Lexa’s cars, and Anya feels her throat go dry. Clarke disembarks from the passenger seat, hoodie over her head and phone against her ear, and when she turns to find Raven, she’s already running out and screaming into Clarke’s arms, like they always have.

Anya stares at the car for a moment longer, breath held. The wiper’s still on and its hazard lights are flashing. _Lexa’s staying in her car._

“Anya!” Whipping her head around, Anya sees Clarke walking toward her, hands in her hoodie’s pockets. She’s grinning like they’re not in the middle of a fucking storm; like her sneakers aren’t wet with rain. “You coming?” she teases.

Anya smiles, shaking her head. “Looking good, Clarke,” she says, adjusting her bag strap over her shoulder. “You’ve been well?”

Clarke smiles, and Anya wonders how she manages the slight blush that grazes her cheeks under this cold weather. “Yes,” she says, gesturing to the car, still parked on the driveway. “We should probably—”

“Of course.” She turns to look for Raven, and finds her already speaking into the car via the open passenger side window. Anya swallows hard, muttering a soft, “Let’s go then,” as she walks over.

The first thing Anya notices is that Lexa’s hair is damp. She does not turn her head as she greets them with a soft and curt hello, small enough to melt under enough rainwater, actually, and Anya feels the slightest nudge of Raven’s elbow as she gets into the back seat with her. The word that comes to Anya’s mind is _thaw._

“Hey Lexa,” says Raven, and Anya watches as Lexa adjusts her rear view mirror to meet their eyes. She catches Anya’s for a split-second, and in that briefest moment, Anya senses how nearly _metallic_ it feels; its sharp jagged edges cool to the touch.

“Hey,” she replies weakly, sniffing afterwards. “Sorry. It’s the rain.”

 _Is she sick?_ “You shouldn’t have—” Anya begins, unable to keep her words in.

“I wanted to,” Lexa snaps, ending it with a soft cough. “ _We_ wanted to. Make sure you get to your hotel all right.”

Anya bites her tongue as Raven digs her elbow further into Anya’s side. The silence that follows fills the car with suffocating air, and when Anya looks at Clarke, she’s just looking out the window, her other hand draped haphazardly upon Lexa’s, right on the gear shift.

Anya feels Raven burrow closer; like she’s almost _sorry_ she’d insisted on something she clearly did not understand. _Thaw, huh?_ she thinks, as Raven slides her arm into hers. _Try thawing that._  

Turning toward her own window, Anya tries to focus on the rain-drenched city, only to find that there’s nothing to see under the torrential downpour.

 

 

_“What do you mean, dress up?”_

_“Is there any other way to interpret what I just said?” Anya deadpans. It’s Mathers season and Mrs Vine has asked Anya to book Lexa as Alexander’s plus-one instead. “Your mother thinks you should go.”_

_“But I have to dress up?”_

_“It’s the Mathers, Lexa, not a trip to the mall,” says Anya, and Lexa only makes a small annoyed sound as she pushes herself off Anya’s sofa to trudge into the kitchen. “Are you going for another Coke? That’s your third today--”_

_Lexa takes a brief look at her before opening the refrigerator door and rolling her eyes. Anya watches as Lexa’s small illuminated face disappears from view, half-amused and half-infuriated that Lexa could just go ahead so stubbornly._

_Not to mention she’s been steadily raiding Anya’s kitchen these past couple of months – granted, indeed, that it’s their_ company _that populates Anya’s pantry in the first place, but still. These days Anya still wonders how they got from Lexa’s constant refusal of Anya’s kindnesses to this steady, comfortable coexistence, characterized primarily by Lexa’s invasion of Anya’s apartment on a semi-regular basis._

 _Anya doesn’t even do_ roommates, _but then again here Lexa is, emerging from the refrigerator with a freshly opened Coke in her hand and a grin on her face. “Come on, Ahn,” says Lexa, mimicking her father’s tone, and Anya just shakes her head, unable to hide her smile. “I’m thirsty.”_

_“I heard water’s actually a good option for people who actually care about their sugar levels.”_

_“She said, whilst lining her refrigerator with Coke,” Lexa shoots back, plopping beside Anya on the couch and nudging the open Coke against Anya’s forearm. “Actually, correction – this is my fourth. Want some?”_

_Anya rolls her eyes as she takes the can from Lexa’s hand, handing her the Mathers invitation in exchange. “So. Dressing up.”_

_Lexa groans. “This is so fucking grown-up,” she says, frowning as she flips through the invite, though Anya could see the excitement that shines through anyhow. Lexa’s eyes betray her all the time. “What am I supposed to wear?”_

_“What, you’ve never seen pictures from the Mathers Ball?”_

_Lexa makes a face. “I suppose I can’t show up in a tie.”_

_Anya squints her eyes at her. While she’s of the opinion that the girl could probably fill a dress well, she doesn’t see any reason Lexa couldn’t come as she wishes. “Who says?” Anya asks, trying to blink away for a moment an image of Lexa in a dark green long dress. “You’re a Vine. I think you can show up in a tie.”_

_“My father—”_

_“We could all show up in a tie, whatever,” says Anya, taking another sip from Lexa’s Coke, momentarily forgotten. “Your father’s main concern is just getting the night over and done with, as painlessly as possible.”_

_“Really?” asks Lexa, her moment’s smile interrupted by a frown. “But I would have loved to see you in a dress.”_

_Anya shoves her by the shoulder. “Fuck off, Lexa.”_

_“No, seriously.”_

_“It doesn’t matter what I show up in,” says Anya, snatching the invite back from Lexa and returning the Coke. “What matters is that your dad has a plus-one, and that plus-one is you.”_

_Lexa smirks, leaning closer to read the invite over Anya’s shoulder, their knees touching. “Were you originally planning to come in a dress?”_

_“Drop it, Alexandra.” Lexa snickers and Anya tries hard not to smack her up the head. “But yes, I planned to come in a dress. I just thought you wanted some support.”_

_“You in a dress definitely comes across as support.”_

_“It’s settled, then.” Anya drops the invite on the table, nudging Lexa’s knee and eyeing the now-lukewarm Coke in her hand. “Finish that. I’m taking you shopping.”_

_*_

_Lexa is nervous, and Anya tries not to be amused, or at least, not so obviously. Then again, after a while, it gets hard to ignore Lexa’s constant fidgeting in the car, especially when she’s sitting close by. Anya rolls her eyes, knocking at the divider._

_“Gustus?”_

_“Yes, madam?”_

_“Can you pull over for a bit?”_

_Lexa tugs at her earphones at that, her other hand still fiddling with her tie. “Why are we stopping?”_

_Anya does not respond immediately; instead, she takes Lexa by the elbow and drags her out of the car to stand on the side of the road. Night has fallen, but it’s still too early for stars. The road they’re on is empty, save for their car, currently parked on the shoulder._

_“You need to breathe,” Anya says sternly, but only because it’s the only way she can help herself from laughing. She tugs at Lexa’s tie and smooths her collar, dusting her palms upon her shoulders lightly. “You all right?”_

_Lexa nods, breathing in. “Yeah, yeah. Can we move along now?” The shake in her voice could be from the chill, but Anya knows better. “Ahn, please.”_

_Anya lets out a small laugh. “It’s just the Mathers, Lex,” she says, lightly shoving Lexa back into the car and carefully climbing back in after her, remembering the hem of her dress. “Stop fidgeting.”_

_“I’m_ fine. _”_

_Anya catches Gustus’ eye on the rear view mirror, and his slightly raised brow carries his disbelief across all too well. Anya gives him a small nod and the car resumes its journey smoothly, gravel crunching underneath._

_“Good,” she just says, smiling as she puts a hand upon Lexa’s spastic knee. “If you say so.”_

_*_

_Lexa’s father is waiting for them at the entrance when their vehicle arrives, and he greets the both of them with a kiss on the cheek. “Well—damn, Anya,” he says, gathering Lexa under his arm and pulling her close. “You two clean up well.”_

_Anya feigns offense. “I woke up like this,” she says, catching Lexa’s eye. Lexa laughs briefly, relaxing eventually into her father’s half-hug, but it is obvious how she is all-too-conscious about having too many people milling around and outright staring at her._

_“Should we head to our seats?” Lexa suggests, quieter than usual, and Anya sees the exact moment that her father goes from amusement to worry._

_“You all right there, Lex?” A firm hand on Lexa’s shoulder, then a lingering pat. Lexa and her father have their own brand of closeness that Anya doesn’t remember having seen before, not exactly – it’s measured but_ warm, _like Alexander doesn’t want to suffocate his own daughter by standing too closely, but it’s not like he could stay too far away._

_Lexa nods as her father ushers her past the entrance, and Anya follows right behind. After a few steps, Lexa looks over her shoulder, wondering aloud if Anya’s going to be seated with them._

_“That’s not how it works,” says Anya. “But I’ll stay until the end of the program.”_

_Lexa furrows her brow at her father, before turning to Anya: “Can I sit with her then?”_

_“That kind of defeats the purpose of being a plus-one, Lexa.”_

_“No, actually,” Alexander chimes in. “Why don’t you just sit near the bar. Eat, people-watch – introduce her to the people, Ahn. The way_ we _usually introduce people, hm?” There’s a naughty twinkle in his eye as he says that, and Anya catches it right before he turns to Lexa to plant a kiss on her cheek. “You girls have fun tonight, all right?”_

_Lexa mumbles her thanks, waiting for her father to move out of earshot before asking: “What did he mean by that?”_

_“By having fun tonight?” Anya asks coolly, taking Lexa’s wrist and tugging her toward the other end of the room. “It means the drinks are free.”_

_Lexa rolls her eyes at her, laughing more easily now. “I was referring to his comment about introducing people_ your _way.”_

_“Oh,” says Anya with a laugh. “Your father is a notorious gossip.”_

_“Really,” says Lexa wryly. “Tell me something I don’t know.”_

_Anya heads straight to the bar, orders two glasses of white. Handing one to Lexa, she leans in closer to whisper, “See that woman over there?_ Don’t _fucking turn your head so obviously, god Lexa. Are you trying to get us caught?”_

_Lexa snickers, leaning closer in kind, pressed flush against Anya now, shoulders touching. “Okay, are we talking about that lady with the humongous earrings—”_

_“The one in red,” Anya confirms._

_“God, must anybody wear red that bright?”_

_“This is why I insisted on dressing you,” says Anya, and when Lexa laughs, her breath is hot against Anya’s neck. “Anyway, that’s Mrs Mather… number three, I think.”_

_“How is anyone—_ oh. _Number three? Seriously?”_

_“Number one and two dead, before you get any wrong ideas,” Anya says casually, sipping from her drink. She waits to watch as Lexa sips in kind, amused at the face she pulls afterwards. “But I think Mrs Mather Three was already sleeping with Mr Mather even before Mrs Mather Two died.”_

_“That’s just…”_

_“Inappropriate?”_

_“I was going to go for_ premature _.”_

_“Look at you,” Anya coos, nudging Lexa’s shoulder. “Lexa Vine, wordsmith. How does that sound?”_

_Lexa smirks. “Must be the wine.”_

_“Yeah, it’s_ journalist wine, _” Anya snorts. “Drink plenty.”_

_Lexa gives her a small mock salute. “Yes, commander.”_

_*_

_Anya knows she should be counting Lexa’s glasses, but Anya thinks the blush on Lexa’s cheeks, plus the drunken blather, is well worth the oversight. That is, until Lexa starts hitting on the waitresses and her father actually notices, shooting Anya a warning look from across the hall._

Well, shit. _Anya drains her glass and prepares to approach Lexa, who’s talking animatedly with the waitress down the other end of the bar, jacket flung over one shoulder. Onstage, the ceremonies are almost wrapping up, but the lights are thankfully still dim._

_“Lexa,” Anya murmurs, sliding right beside her smoothly. “Let’s go.”_

_Lexa pauses to drink, before turning to Anya with an all-too-bright smile, and Anya has to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing at her face, red and obviously warm. “Ahn, please,” Lexa slurs, waving her empty glass around in one hand; Anya catches her by the wrist and sets her down, gently, until the glass is safely returned. Lexa turns to the waitress and asks, “Have you met my friend?” And then, “Have you seen her dress?”_

_“Lexa, stop boring your_ friend _with these questions,” Anya interrupts. Then, turning to the other girl: “I’m sorry. Has she been like this long? I swear, I took my eyes off her for just a couple of minutes—”_

 _“—Isn’t she gorgeous, though?” Lexa’s voice cuts in, gesturing toward Anya shakily. “I mean, she doesn’t_ always _dress this way, and sometimes I wish she did, because damn, have you seen those—”_

 _“_ Enough, _” says Anya firmly, a hand on Lexa’s forearm. They’re both facing the waitress, who’s staring back with a confused but altogether amused look. Anya mouths a quiet, ‘Sorry’ at her before tugging Lexa away, who giggles as she walks back with Anya toward the restrooms._

_“How many have you had to drink?” Anya asks, looking at Lexa on the mirror and waiting for Lexa’s eyes to focus._

_“Not too many,” Lexa answers after a while. “But maybe five?”_

_“Bullshit,” says Anya, but her tone is teasing. “What’s your new friend’s name?”_

_Lexa furrows her brows in confusion before understanding Anya’s question. “Oh. Her. Um, Karen… I think? Or is it Mary.”_

_“Jesus Christ, Lexa. At least have the decency to remember the girl’s_ name. _”_

_Lexa laughs, running her hands under the water. “I’m drunk, okay.”_

_“I’d let you use that just this once,” says Anya. “But you must know that is_ never _a reason.”_

_Lexa splashes her face with water once, letting it drip right over the sink, and Anya pushes a handful of paper towels into her hand. “All right,” says Lexa, wiping herself, holding Anya’s gaze on the mirror. “But I get a pass tonight?”_

_“That wasn’t what I said.”_

_Lexa laughs, dropping her eyes back to the porcelain sink, balling up the wet paper towels in her hand. “Sorry, I was hoping to make more mistakes tonight,” she says, and Anya wonders about that tone – not really drunk, but not at all sober, either._ Just a delicious in-between, _Anya thinks. She puts a hand right in the middle of Lexa’s back, as if worried that she might hurl._

 _“You ready to go? Let’s sober up somewhere else because your mother will_ kill _me.”_

_Lexa straightens slowly, sliding across the marble counter to press up against Anya, and Anya, surprised as she is, tries to hold her ground; tries to keep her gaze steady, even as Lexa tries to peer in, her eyes this startling shade of green that disconcerts Anya, maybe._

_“_ Lexa. _” Anya clears her throat, and right then, Lexa’s blinking and pushing herself off her. “I said, let’s sober up.”_

 _“Right, right,” Lexa’s muttering, running her hands through her hair like she’s just snapped out of_ something, _and Anya tries not to think about it, not really. “Shit. I need a glass of water.”_

 _“Or a liter,” says Anya, reaching to fix the back of Lexa’s collar before draping an arm loosely over her shoulder, pulling her in lightly._ Comfortable like this, _Anya thinks, trying not to interpret Lexa’s momentary pause as something else entirely._

_Anya calls Gustus before calling Alexander to tell him she has Lexa. Alexander has a few curt words about Lexa’s behavior that, in Anya’s opinion, aren’t worth relaying to Lexa anymore, so she just lets them into one ear and out the other._

_“Was that my father?” asks Lexa sleepily, her voice hoarse. “Is he mad?”_

_Anya looks out her window, watching the city pass by for a bit before turning back to Lexa. “No, he isn’t,” she says._ What’s a little lie between friends. _“He’s just worried about you.”_

_Lexa groans, letting her forehead touch the window. “I feel slightly shaky.”_

_“Aspirin at home, hang on,” says Anya, and Lexa fucking_ whimpers _; the small sound prompts Anya to kick at Lexa’s shin lightly. “Jesus, Lexa. It’s just wine.”_

_The rest of the ride goes by quietly._

_*_

_Back at Anya’s flat, Lexa sinks into the couch in the living room as Anya heads for the medicine kit in her bathroom for the aspirin, and when she walks back out, Lexa has already taken off her tie and dropped it on the carpet, and her shoes are askew under the table. Lexa herself isn’t on the couch; Anya figures she must have headed to the kitchen to help herself._

_“Lex?” Aspirin in hand, Anya walks into the kitchen, barely illuminated now by the open refrigerator door. Lexa turns around, a bottle of water in one hand and all the buttons on her shirt now undone, hem still haphazardly tucked into her slacks._

Fine, _Anya notes briefly, brow arched. “Your aspirin,” she says coolly as she hands it over, brushing past Lexa as she closes the refrigerator door herself. Behind her, she hears Lexa take her medicine quietly, the sound of the bottle cap being twisted open echoing in the small room._

_“Do I still have clothes left here?” Lexa asks after the little sigh she lets out after finishing her drink._

_“In the other room,” Anya says. “Need help?”_

_“No, I’ll be—I can manage. Extra toothbrush?”_

_“Bathroom mirror cabinet.”_

_“I should really leave a toothbrush, no?” says Lexa, heading for the bathroom._

_Anya laughs, walking out of the kitchen after her, can of Coke in her hand. “About time you consider,” she just says._

They arrive at their hotel just as the rain dies down, and Anya shakes Raven’s shoulder gently to wake her. “We’re here,” she whispers against Raven’s cheek, before planting a quick kiss on her forehead. “Get up, my arm is dead.”

Raven smiles, swatting Anya’s shoulder weakly. “I was having a good time.”

“Morning, Raven,” Clarke calls out sweetly from the front seat, and for a moment, Anya forgets that they’ve spent the entire car ride in the chilly frost of Lexa’s cold silence. Raven lets out a little giggle as she opens the door and gets out, dragging Anya out after her.

At the lobby, as Raven checks them both in, Clarke approaches Anya, hands in her pockets. “I’m sorry about earlier,” she says, looking over her shoulder briefly toward Lexa, who has stayed in the car to keep it running. “It’s just – she’s upset about the weather. Worried about your plane and delays – you know _Lexa._ ”

Anya nods, though in her head she’s asking, _Do I?_ “Yeah – she also sounds a bit under the weather,” says Anya, and Clarke breathes out in agreement. “Is she going to be all right? For the party, I meant.”

“No way she’s missing that,” says Clarke. “She’s pretty excited. I know it doesn’t really show, but—”

The laugh that comes to Anya is sudden and unexpected. “It’s Lexa,” she says. “It will _never_ really show.”

Clarke takes a moment before laughing along. “I guess you’re right.” And then, “So we’ll see you tonight, then? Drop by the bar as early as you want?”

“I’ll bring Raven in as soon as,” says Anya.

“Don’t let her nap too long.”

“You do know that puts me _directly_ in harm’s way, right?”

“I am standing right here,” Raven calls from the counter. “I can actually hear you.” Clarke laughs as she runs over to Raven, wrapping her arms around her from behind and kissing her cheek sloppily. “Also, I heard there would be _shortened_ napping – what is this _madness,_ Clarke?”

“Bellamy and I need help with the party, okay? Lincoln could only hold Octavia off for so long.”

“You should have asked _me_ to hold Octavia off, I would have probably fared better?” says Raven, shooting Anya an apologetic look. “Sorry, hon.”

“I wasn’t saying _anything,_ ” says Anya, chuckling. “Would you just like to drop these bags and go then?” The look on Raven’s face shifts almost imperceptibly; the unsaid, _Are you sure you want to get back into Lexa’s car?_ coming across loud and clear in that split-second. “It saves us a cab ride, doesn’t it?” Anya adds.

The surprise on Raven’s face is entirely easy to overlook, but Anya is so _attuned_ to itthat it doesn’t escape her, not really. Raven nods, turning to Clarke: “Could you give us ten minutes, maybe?”

“Sure. I’ll tell Lexa to park?”

“That won’t be necessary,” says Anya. “We’ll be quick.”

When they get to their room, Raven pulls Anya down beside her on the edge of the bed, close enough for their shoulders and hips to touch. Anya turns her head to plant a kiss on Raven’s shoulder – innocent, agenda-less.

“Fix it,” Raven murmurs lowly, wrapping her hand around Anya’s. “You keep telling me there’s nothing wrong, but in the car—”

“Raven,” Anya begins softly, her voice little more but a sigh. “Lexa and I have had worse, don’t worry. It happens.”

“It’s Octavia’s birthday,” says Raven. “I want it to be perfect.”

Anya nods. She gets it. “And it will be,” she just says. “I promise.”


	2. we never change

_The year the company celebrates its anniversary on a yacht, Anya arrives late. She picks Echo up on the way over, and the detour takes longer than initially foreseen._ Damn, _Anya thinks, stepping into the slowly filling room, Echo’s hand in hers. She had wanted to arrive ahead, so as to avoid the welcome team at the door, but then again, all delays taken into consideration -- here she is._

_“Hello Anya.” Alexander himself arrives at the venue ahead, and Anya gives him a small nod in acknowledgment, before turning to introduce Echo. “Have you seen my daughter?”_

_Anya feels her stomach turn at that._ Not even five minutes in. _“I told her—I thought Gustus was driving her here?”_

_Alexander blinks, for a moment confused. “Oh. Yes, of course – she’s already here. That wasn’t what I was asking, what I meant was – she’s been looking for you. Perhaps the better question should have been: Has Lexa seen you?” He looks at Anya before glancing briefly over at Echo –_ I know what you’re thinking, _she almost blurts out, but she bites down on her tongue. Tonight, she’s choosing her battles; tonight, she’s decided she’s having none._

_“I’ll bump into her later, I’m sure,” says Anya, pulling Echo closer. “I’m starving – is the buffet open?”_

_“Just now,” Alexander says, gesturing to the spread. “Please. Help yourselves.”_

_Beside her, Echo thanks Alexander, her voice low and her other hand touching his elbow. Anya leads her to the buffet with a small laugh. “In case it wasn’t clear to you earlier, that man you were trying to flirt with was my boss,” says Anya, good-naturedly. She hands Echo her plate and ushers her toward the food, hand easy on the small of Echo’s back._

_“I was just trying to be polite,” says Echo. “Too damn early to play the jealousy card?”_

_Anya huffs. “There is no card to play,” she says. “You’ve been asking to hang out.”_

_“And_ thank you _for finally squeezing me in, Miss I’m Busy Tonight. Also – the jealousy card’s obviously not yours. And obviously not Alexander’s, either. So who’s carrying it?”_

This fucker. _“You think I brought you here to make someone jealous?”_

_Echo tut-tuts, turning to put some potatoes on Anya’s plate._ Old habits die hard. _“I know you,” she says. “There’s only so many reasons you’d readily go out with an ex. Not that I do not commend your choice – you have chosen_ extremely _well.”_

_Anya rolls her eyes. “Echo,” she says. “Can we please just enjoy this night?”_

_“And who’s Lexa anyway?” Echo seats them near the bar, and Anya follows, approving. “Are you actually – do you have a thing with your boss’s_ daughter _?”_

_“If you could say that louder – I don’t think_ Alexander _heard you.”_

_Echo laughs, putting her fork down and clasping her hands under her chin. “So, you are then? You’re not denying it?”_

_“Jesus, Echo,” says Anya. “Of course I am_ not _having whatever sort of ‘thing’ with my boss’s daughter.”_

_“I am almost flattered, because that would mean my presence here is completely without agenda, but Anya, darling –_ please _. Do not fuck with me.”_

_Now,_ that – _that makes Anya laugh. She wipes at her lips with a napkin as she coughs lightly, the water stuck in her throat. “Oh, Echo. I thought we’re well past these games?”_

_Anya feels Echo nudge her shin under the table, her toe tracing a faint line down, then up._ Well, damn. _Echo flips her hair over one shoulder, smiling at her. “What games?”_

_“Fuck you,” says Anya, smiling right back. “Would you like to get a drink?”_

_“See?” Echo says, standing up and following Anya. “We could still do this well, hm?”_

_*_

_Echo’s not even Anya’s latest ex, if she’s to be technical about it; hell, she doesn’t even_ strictly _fall under ex, not really, because Echo has always been something like her name – there, but isn’t. Anya’s okay with that; she and Echo always meet at the strangest of times, though it is really debatable whether that is unfortunate or actually lucky._

_Echo’s…_ convenient, _though Anya doesn’t like to use that word. Better to say that all too often, Echo seems to always be at the right place, at the right time._

_Anya likes that about her; she likes that about her_ a lot. _Well – that, and Echo’s easy smile. The way she looks in bed. (The way she sounds in bed.)_

_Anya doesn’t really think about this thing with Echo too much, and she knows Echo doesn’t either. Echo’s main preoccupations were games. On repeat. Sometimes, Anya pauses to think about her karma, but most nights Echo’s really good at convincing her to do bad things._

_Well, she’s a single woman, Anya used to tell herself, rationalizing her and Echo and all things in between. She could do whatever the fuck she wants, right?_

Years and years ago, _Anya reminds herself, watching Echo as she takes a sip from her glass of wine. “Stop straining,” says Anya, noting with fondness the elegant stretch of Echo’s neck. “I’ll point her out to you as soon as I see her.”_

_“I bet I’ll find out even if I do it myself.”_

_“Really?”_

_“_ Really, _” Echo says. “You’re not too hard to figure out, Ahn. You have a type.”_

_“And that is?”_

_Echo shrugs, scanning the room one more time. “Ah,” she says softly. “Let me guess: Dark haired, great eyes, looks a bit like she could kill you if pissed off? That vibe?”_

_Anya groans, following Echo’s line of sight._ Well, shit. _Her eyes fall to Lexa’s hand: Already holding a halfway done bottle of beer._ Who has been handing her these drinks and just how many—

_“Your thirst, Anya,” Echo interrupts. “Want a refill?”_

_“Shut up,” Anya says, shaking her head. “You’re reading this wrong.”_

_“Whatever you say,” Echo says, grinning. “If the DJ plays something nice, we’re going to dance.”_

_“Echo.”_

_“Come on, Anya. Why bring me to this party if not for old times’ sake?”_

_Anya sighs._ This was a bad idea, you knew this, _she thinks._ Still, you willingly walked into this, didn’t you?

Not like your hand was forced.

_When the DJ starts playing some danceable tune, Echo hurriedly finishes her drink and stands, hand extended to Anya. “Well?” she says, brow raised. “We had a deal.”_

_Anya rolls her eyes. She almost points out that they_ actually _had none, but then again – who could resist Echo’s charm? Echo laughs out loud, easy as before (drunker as before?) and Anya realizes just then, how she is still not immune to_ all that _, even after all these years._

_*_

_The night goes by quickly; nights with Echo always do. She dances too closely and Anya lets her, the music swallowing them both up and drowning everything else. A careless touch here and there; a brief nip below Anya’s ear, nothing too serious. They’re still drinking under the swiveling lights, and for a split-second, Anya is twenty again and isn’t weighed down._

_Echo’s still dancing when the night is interrupted by the sound of glass breaking and the brief shrill shriek that follows. Anya whips her head toward the sound, suddenly sober. There’s movement and murmuring and when Anya catches someone whisper, “Vine’s daughter” Anya pushes into the crowd without further word._

_When Anya gets past the people, she sees Lexa leaning against the bar, speaking with a man who is gesturing somewhat angrily at her._

_“What is this?” Anya demands, walking closer, and Lexa doesn’t turn away fast enough for Anya not to catch a shadow of a smirk on her lips. “I’ll deal with you later,” she tells Lexa before turning to the man she’s speaking with. “What’s_ your _business?”_

_The man does not speak – he is not a familiar face, so Anya thinks he’s a guest. When Anya notices the woman beside him – that pretty girl from Accounting that Lexa may or may not have been flirting with, apparently – she lets out a long sigh. “Step away, the both of you.”_

_“She started it—”_

_“And she’s actually paying for this entire party, so I really suggest you step away,” says Anya, more firmly now. She feels the crowd move away, slowly but surely, and when the music starts back up, the crowd disperses into the song like nothing happened._

_When Anya turns to Lexa, she is laughing into the broken glass in her hand. “_ Lexa. _You’re bleeding.”_

_“It’s nothing. Just a scratch,” says Lexa. “Go back to your date.”_

This fucker. _“That’s not—let’s get you into the clinic, all right? Let go of that glass.”_

_“I can take care of myself.”_

_“Well, if tonight has been any indication – you obviously could not.”_

_Lexa turns to her with a glare. “And who are you to say anything about how this night has been for me? Not like you have been paying attention.”_

_Anya sighs._ Is this the way this goes, then? _“I’m not your babysitter, Lexa.”_

_“Then why are you still here?” Lexa leaves the broken glass on the bar counter, trying to push herself onto her shaky knees. “Now, if you would excuse me – I need to go to the washroom.” She makes it a couple of steps before teetering back against the bar, and Anya walks over to grip Lexa by the arm._

_“Don’t resist,” Anya warns, dragging Lexa to the narrow hallway that leads to the clinic instead. “Just let me do this.”_

_The clinic is a small cabin right beside the captain’s room. It is empty, given the late hour, and Anya has to struggle briefly with the lights, given the few drinks she’s had herself. Even then, she’s far from feeling the alcohol actually in her veins; the sight of Lexa’s bleeding hand is enough to sober her up until morning._

_“The fuck were you thinking,” Anya murmurs, sitting Lexa down and rummaging through the medicine cabinet for bandages and iodine. “That guy was twice your size.”_

_Lexa scoffs. “I was just talking with her.”_

_“Clearly, her drunk boyfriend minds.”_

_“It’s not my fault I’m_ threatening. _”_

_Anya lets a small, sharp laugh slip as she tears open the bag of cotton with her teeth. “Of course,” she says, enjoying the brief, pained hiss Lexa responds with as soon as the antiseptic touches her skin. “Lexa Vine, could probably buy all of your souls_ twice. _Very threatening.”_

_“Stop mocking me.”_

_“Then stop acting like a child.” Anya tightens her hold around Lexa’s wrist to keep her still. “Keep your hand open, for fuck’s sake, Lex.” The gash runs right across Lexa’s palm, a bright red streak in the low light. Anya restrains herself from just dousing the wound with antiseptic altogether before wrapping it up with a bandage, as she normally would have done; the way Lexa gasps and winces clouds her already alcohol-fogged judgment._

_“Sorry,” Lexa offers finally, softly. “And thank you. Seriously, I feel fine.” Anya finishes wrapping her up quietly, securing the bandage in place before Lexa pulls her hand away, slowly. “Go back to your date. Sorry.”_

_Anya stands, stowing the antiseptic away, carefully. “Echo’s not—well, I suppose she is my date for tonight, but it isn’t what you probably think.”_

_“And why should you be concerned about what I think?”_

_Anya takes a breath, staring hard at the contents of the medicine cabinet as she tries to compose herself._ Damn, why do I let myself get backed into these corners? _“My truth-telling has priorities. Echo’s a friend. I thought you should know, instead of – you know. Drinking yourself blind and cutting yourself on broken glasses.” Anya’s tongue feels loose and awry, yet the words do not feel strange, not at all._ Did that really sound the way it did? _With Lexa’s blood out of sight, Anya feels herself slip away, slightly, the alcohol resuming its journey through her veins._

_“That’s not what this was.”_

Wasn’t it? _“All right,” says Anya, though she knows she has to work through what is dawning on her just now._ How is any of this ‘all right’?

_“I’m not—I did not mean to sound the way I probably did,” says Lexa. “Sorry.”_

_“You’ve apologized enough for tonight,” says Anya, tilting Lexa’s chin up to the light. Her eyes are unfocused, and her lips are full, and_ Jesus, _Anya thinks, looking away._ Too much, too much. _“Are you about ready to go home?”_

_“I am_ not _leaving this yacht,” says Lexa firmly, eyes suddenly bright. “Have you seen -- it has a pool,” she adds, trying to make light of it._

_Anya rolls her eyes. There is no way she is letting an intoxicated person get anywhere near the pool deck. “_ Lexa. _”_

_Lexa pouts, and Anya tries to be not taken. “Just—I’d like to spend some time alone with it. If that’s all right.”_

_Anya looks at her watch – she could shut the party down now, send everyone home, give Lexa what she wants._ Because she always gets it, doesn’t she? _Anya sighs. “Party ends midnight. I don’t think you should be drinking more.”_

_“I’ve had my fill,” says Lexa. “Can I—can I take a moment?” she asks in a small voice, gesturing to the room._

_Anya nods, reaching over to shut the medicine cabinet before getting ready to get out. “Sure,” she says softly. “You’ll be all right here? I have to –”_

_“Check on Echo, yeah.”_

_Anya blinks. “I meant to say prep for wrap,” she says softly, a hand on Lexa’s shoulder. “Come find me later.”_

_Later: When Echo is gone, with nothing but a short message left with the DJ in the booth. (‘Well done and well played, Anya darling. Till next game.’)_

_Later: When the last of the party has died down, and the night is quiet, save for the lapping of the water against the yacht and the breeze._

_“Good party,” says Lexa, sliding right beside Anya by the pool’s edge. Anya hums her acknowledgement, not looking up from the water; legs dipped to the knees, her pants rolled up. “I’d go for a swim if it weren’t for my hand.”_

_“I don’t think it’s wise for you to expose your wound to this water,” Anya says softly._

_“I don’t think it’s wise for any of us to expose_ anything _to this water – if you’ve seen what the water’s seen all night.”_

_Anya laughs. “You’re probably right.” Lexa nudges Anya’s shoulder playfully, the water splashing. “Watch it, Vine,” says Anya, grin lining her warning. “I have no intention of getting drenched tonight.”_

_“Oh?” Lexa challenges, scooping water in her hand and sprinkling it over Anya’s knee. “I would have brought a swimsuit, but I thought the pool would be full.”_

_“You can borrow mine. It’s in my car.”_

_Lexa rolls her eyes. “It obviously wouldn’t fit.” When Anya shoves her back, side-eyeing her, she adds: “And that is obviously a compliment. Get with the program, Ahn.”_

_“Right,” says Anya, and right here, she knows:_ Something is changing. _Maybe. Anya tries to shove it away, out of her head –_ just a kid with a ridiculous crush, not like you’re unfamiliar? _“So. Are you enjoying your private yacht?”_

_Lexa leans back on her uninjured hand while keeping her  bandaged one on her lap, nodding as she surveys the pool deck – the surrounding tables are littered with half-empty bottles of wine and leftover cans of beer, but still, there’s an idle smile on her face. “Loving the yacht. Wish dad owned one for real.”_

_“You’d love that, won’t you? Like a secret hideout.”_

_“Only so we won’t have to hang out to sober up in your flat_ all the time, _” says Lexa, trying to be melodramatic for effect. Anya rolls her eyes, scoffing. “Not to say that your apartment isn’t cool, Ahn. Because it is, and I love it, but—”_

_“Time will come your parents will kick you out of the house and demand you live elsewhere,” says Anya. “Then_ I’ll _be over all the time to ransack your pantry.”_

_“I would love that,” Lexa says quietly. “I do enjoy your company -- you know this, right?”_

Something is changing, maybe. _Anya takes a moment to take that comment in before draping an arm over Lexa’s shoulder loosely. “You’re so dramatic when you’re drunk,” she says with a light laugh, ruffling Lexa’s hair. “I kind of like it.”_

_Lexa squirms in Anya’s grip – either to get her hair out of Anya’s grasp, or to hide a blush – or perhaps both. “Shut up,” says Lexa, pitch rising slightly, trying to push Anya off her with her one hand. “Dramatic or no, you_ like _me.”_

_“Well, you do have your strange charm.” Anya smooths Lexa’s hair before pulling her legs out of the pool and getting to her feet. “Crashing. Aren’t you?”_

_“Aw, come on Ahn. It’s early.”_

_“And I’m old, Christ,” Anya says, yawning. “You sure you don’t want to leave yet? I’ll just have Gustus pick you up?”_

_Lexa groans, getting up in kind. “But I wanted to sleep this hangover off at your place.”_

_“Then get out of that pool and into my car.”_

Back in Lexa’s car, the mood seems to be lighter; when Raven and Anya get to them, Lexa and Clarke seem to be in the middle of a spirited conversation that involves hand gestures and laughter. The rain has slowed to thin spindles, and Anya feels her own mood lift, somewhat.

“So what’s the plan?” Raven says, approaching Clarke and hugging her loosely. “Hey, Lex.”

“Hey.” Lexa’s voice comes across as friendlier now, and she even reaches past Clarke to touch Raven’s elbow briefly. “Clarke says you’re missing your nap to help?”

Raven sighs melodramatically. “What wouldn’t I do for Octavia, no?”

“She’s a very lucky girl,” says Lexa. Her eyes slide to Anya briefly – they’re softer now, though still cold. _Soft is good,_ Anya just thinks, trying a small smile. _Soft is pleasant. I’ll take it._

“We should probably head back,” says Clarke. “Bellamy’s been calling me. I think he’s slowly going crazy.”

“We left him with Jasper and Miller. I am surprised the pace of his building insanity is _slow_ ,” Lexa points out.  She adjusts her rear view mirror, and this time, when Anya meets her gaze, she doesn’t avert her eyes so quickly.

Clarke hums her agreement. “Good point. Hence the hurrying.” She puts her hand back on Lexa’s, fingers meeting near the radio dial. “Shall we then?”

Lexa’s still holding Anya’s gaze when she nods in response. “We shall.”

*

Bellamy greets them with an all-too-wide smile when they arrive at the bar. Raven rushes to him with a growl and launches herself right at him, and Bellamy tries his best to lift. Jasper and Miller notice soon after, and they abandon their preps as well to greet the newcomers, their small huddle filling with giggles and how-are-you’s and laughter.

“Anya.” Bellamy turns to her with a formal handshake, which Anya promptly ignores as she opts to gather him in a hug. Raven’s friends are a warm bunch, but they always seem to have this reserved, respectful demeanor where Anya is concerned; she wonders if Lexa still suffers through the same courtesy.

“Don’t be a stranger, Bellamy,” says Anya, rubbing at his shoulders. “How can we help?”

Bellamy scratches behind his ear, the goofy smile never leaving his face. “I’m still doing an inventory of the food and drinks – they just arrived. Jasper and Miller are fixing the sound system.”

“Oooh,” Raven chimes in. “Been a while since I tinkered with our audio equipment. What’s the plan, Blake? Why are the speakers out? Oh wait, don’t tell me – _surprise concert?_ ”

“Calm down, Raven,” says Anya, a hand on the small of Raven’s back. “I could do inventory?”

“No, of course not,” Bellamy says, gesturing to the booths. “Clarke’s got inventory covered. Raven’s got audio. _You_ are a guest.”

Anya smiles. “Is this a comment on my age, because I swear Blake, I could still flex these muscles and bash your face in--”

“ _Hey,_ ” Raven interrupts, kissing Anya’s cheek. “No bashing of anything.”

“Take a seat, Anya. Really,” says Bellamy, grin still wide. “Would you like a drink?”

Anya shakes her head, conceding. “I swear,” she says, turning to Raven. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your friend here is hitting on me.”

“Who’s hitting on you?” The question comes from the door, and the crowd breaks apart briefly to welcome Clarke and Lexa into the huddle. Anya meets Lexa’s gaze from across the room – _softer and softer now, and even warmer still,_ Anya notes, relishing the playful lilt to Lexa’s question.

“Bellamy here,” Raven replies. “Smooth-talking my girl – or, correction: My _wife._ ” Jasper and Miller let out matching hoots and whistles and Bellamy just laughs. “I mean, get in line – right, Lexa?”

Something stills in Anya’s veins at Raven’s line, but she chooses to shut it out; a task made more difficult by Lexa’s somewhat-panicked gaze. _Come on. Wear it on your sleeve, why don’t you._

“The queue’s pretty long, true,” Lexa recovers with a small laugh even. “Bell, you’d have to come after Clarke, even.”

“Nope,” Clarke jumps in. “He comes after _you,_ because obviously I am ahead of you in line,” she says, wrapping her arms around Lexa from behind and planting a kiss on the side of her neck. “So yes, Bell. The line is long.”

“I was just being a good host,” says Bellamy. “Offering a _drink._ ”

“Might as well offer everyone,” says Lexa. “Everyone’s thirsty anyway.”

In the round of laughter that follows, Anya’s is the loudest.

*

Anya finds herself watching from the farthest booth as Raven and the boys set up the stage. It seems that Bellamy _does_ have a show lined up for Octavia, though he’s been very secretive about the program. Anya doesn’t mind; so what if she’ll be as surprised as Octavia later on? What’s a little authentic shock, after all.

“Your beer’s done.”

Anya glances at the bottle in her hand and smiles wanly. “Almost. How’s yours?” She feels Lexa settle beside her, close but not too close; a cold beer can being nudged against her forearm.

“I’m not sure just how many people Bellamy’s looking to intoxicate tonight,” says Lexa, popping her beer can open. “But there are five big plastic drums in the back room, all filled with ice and beer, so.”

Anya finishes her bottle to start with her fresh can, reaching over to toast Lexa’s. “We better get drinking then.”

“It’s not even six.”

Anya shrugs. “Who cares?”

Lexa nods, taking a sip. They look out at the scene unfolding ahead of them quietly; even from this distance, Anya can see the hint of annoyance on Raven’s face as she speaks with Miller, who is holding up two wires, a confused look on his face. “That your thing now?” asks Lexa, and Anya shifts her eyes from the scene. “ _Not_ caring?”

Just like that, the sinking feeling in Anya’s stomach returns, lining her gut with stones. “Lexa.”

Lexa shakes her head, keeps drinking for a good minute before discarding her can on the table. “This wasn’t our deal. The deal was—”

“There was _no_ deal,” Anya interrupts softly. _I don’t shake on promises I couldn’t keep._ Anya still goes back to that night, replaying in her head all the wrong things she said. _Regrets are useless. All said and done._ She stares at Lexa’s hand, gripping the edge of the table tightly. “I had to do what I must.”

“What do you mean, _what you_ _must?_ ” Lexa asks, incredulous. “Like I had any intention of sabotaging your marriage. You know me better than that, Anya.”

Anya finds herself closing her eyes at the way her name drops from Lexa’s mouth – hard and _clinical,_ all the A’s with their pronounced edges; it’s like she hasn’t said the name in ages. _And who’s to blame for this?_ “Your intention was not my concern,” she says, trying to keep the shake out of my voice. “I distrusted _myself_.”

Lexa lets out a small laugh, her shoulders shaking with the effort, and right here Anya is just _thrown:_ Who is this girl standing beside her, and why does her laugh sound _so different_ , coming from all too familiar lips? _Stop this._ “You should have trusted me,” she says softly, touching Anya’s wrist lightly as she moves past Anya, leaving her right there to watch Raven alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me: adrmaloud.tumblr.com


	3. all too well

 

 _Lexa is over most nights, an almost permanent fixture on Anya’s couch, preferring to tackle overtime work here than at headquarters. In fact, she’s around all too often that Anya actually notices how different the place feels when she_ isn’t _around. Anya doesn’t remember when exactly this became a regular thing – Lexa cross-legged on the sofa, alternating between finalizing reports and channel surfing, slowly tearing through Anya’s pantry, one soda at a time._

_“How could you focus on those spreadsheets with the TV on?” asks Anya one night, observing Lexa from the other end of the room. “Also: That volume of soda cannot be healthy.”_

_Lexa takes an idle sip from her drink before responding. “One: I am young and capable of multitasking,” she says, twirling her pen in one hand. “Two: This is my_ first _soda, Ahn. Cut me some slack.”_

_“Next week, I’m stocking up on fresh juice. Your father would want me to keep you healthy.”_

_Lexa groans. “Please keep the Cokes. Please.”_

_Anya laughs, shaking her head. This Lexa is eons away from the one she first met – quiet and walled in. “Go back to those spreadsheets. I need those tables for my presentation.”_

_“All right, all right.” Lexa nods, lowering her Coke can on the table. “Please chill.”_

_Despite Lexa’s seeming distractedness, Anya has yet to catch an error in her work; it’s actually pretty impressive. She figures she could keep rewarding Lexa with soda until her accuracy flags – maybe some unhealthy secret ingredient does help, somewhat._

_Often, Lexa falls asleep where she works – post-sugar crash, Anya figures, trying her best to rouse Lexa gently from the dining table, or from the floor in front of the television, or from that nook near Anya’s bookshelves near the window. By now, Anya’s spare room is actually already Lexa’s, and by_ now _, Lexa could already easily get herself into bed while half-asleep without banging her knees into table corners._

_Always, Anya looks on, amused and impressed._

_Some nights, Anya stays up to keep working even long after Lexa’s already gone to bed, only to be interrupted in the middle of the night by the sound of shuffling – it’s Lexa re-emerging from her room, now wearing those ridiculously small shorts, trying to make her way past the living room and into the kitchen. The lights are out, except in Anya’s corner, but even then it is illuminated only by her laptop screen. From where she’s seated, she watches curiously as Lexa opens the refrigerator, bathing her sleepy face briefly in light._

_“You okay over there?” Anya calls out softly, shutting her laptop. Lexa turns to her, and Anya tries to stifle a laugh as Lexa struggles with her water bottle with one eye open._

_“Thirsty,” mumbles Lexa as she finally twists the cap open with a sigh and drinks, before turning around with a soft, “Good night,” half-empty water bottle still in her hand as she walks back to bed._

_Anya listens for the sound of Lexa’s door closing before finally letting herself laugh, wondering how this fond feeling has managed to worm itself into her chest._

_*_

_The mornings are different. The mornings are slow and hazy and sometimes Anya wakes to Lexa poking at her lazily and asking for, of all things, breakfast._

_“Jesus, Lexa. Let me sleep.”_

_“It’s late,” Lexa says, and Anya can feel the bed dip as Lexa climbs on. “And I’m hungry.”_

_Anya keeps her eyes closed. “We’ve had this conversation before about me not being your babysitter.” And then: “Also. It’s_ your _turn to make breakfast. I made breakfast yesterday.”_

_There’s a slight groan and Anya opens one eye carefully, if only to catch Lexa making a face at her, head propped on an elbow beside Anya in bed. “Damn,” she says. “I was hoping you’d forget.”_

_Anya shifts under the covers, smile on her face. “Well, I haven’t, so. Call me when you’re done.”_

_Lexa nudges Anya’s shoulder a final time before getting out of her bed with a grunt. “Call you when I’m burning your kitchen down.”_

_*_

_Lexa gets her own apartment on her birthday. That, and the yacht._ Of course, _Anya thinks, rolling her eyes._ Heir to the empire. What’s an apartment and a _fucking_ yacht, right? _Alexander hosts the surprise birthday party, which Lexa spends mostly holed up with Anya at the captain’s cabin_

_“You think I should have a hat?” Lexa asks, nursing a glass of whiskey under Anya’s watch. “Kind of goes with the territory, doesn’t it?”_

_Anya smiles, taking a sip from her glass in kind. “You know what goes with the territory? Mingling with other people in your own party.”_

_Lexa looks into her glass and makes a face. “Mingling is overrated.”_

_“You’re mingling with_ me _,” Anya points out._

_Lexa shakes her head. “This is different. This,” she pauses, gesturing to the empty space between them with her pointer finger. “One-on-one mingling – it’s actually terribly underrated.”_

_“If I let you drink more whiskey, could you promise_ never _to use that phrase_ one-on-one mingling _ever again?”_

_Lexa laughs drunkenly as she raises her glass to toast Anya’s, and Anya rolls her eyes as she lifts hers in kind. “Deal.” And then: “I don’t know half the people outside, come on. My dad just likes to show off his new yacht.”_

_“Technically_ your _new yacht.”_

 _“Maybe now’s a good time to have friends,” says Lexa. “Imagine the parties I could throw here.” Anya looks up at that, catching the slight sadness that manages to slip between the words. Sure, all this time, Anya has wondered if Lexa ever gets lonely_ like that _– if she has friends outside of family. Lexa has never talked about her life before arriving in her father’s office, and Anya has never really thought about prodding before._

_“I’m sure that can be arranged,” says Anya, and Lexa just shrugs, draining her glass slowly. “Would you like that?”_

_Lexa tilts her head, looking out the window. From where they’re seated, they can see a bit of the party outside, but hear none of the sounds. “Not really,” she says. “I like my quiet parties with you.”_

_“One day you will be bored with just me,” says Anya._

_“We’ll just have to keep going until we hit that day then,” Lexa just says._

_*_

_The party hasn’t even ended yet when Lexa and Anya slip out of the yacht and into Lexa’s car. Anya climbs in first and Lexa tumbles in after her, giggling noisily as she greets Gustus, who is the night’s designated driver._

_“Do you know the way to my new apartment?” asks Lexa, slurring lightly, and Anya just sits back and lets her do as she pleases. Gustus simply grunts in response, shrugging as he starts the engine, and Lexa starts laughing again, a hand high on Anya’s thigh._

Oh Lexa, _Anya thinks, letting her hand be._ You precious drunk child.

_Lexa’s apartment, Anya soon finds out, is about a stone’s throw away from headquarters – perhaps a deliberate move for Alexander. Proximity is key, after all, in everything._

_“You could see the office from here,” Lexa points out first thing, opening the door to the terrace. They are maybe thirty stories up, and the night view is fantastic. There’s a small marble table flanked with two chairs in the middle of the terrace, and Anya thinks,_ Now this is a perfect drinking spot, _as she runs her palm over the tabletop carefully._

_“We should have taken some of the whiskey with us,” says Lexa._

_Anya smiles. “We did, actually.” She pulls the bottle out of her bag – nearly halfway done, as this was the one they had at the captain’s cabin, but still. Better than nothing. “You want to bother with glasses?”_

_Lexa shrugs, lifting the bottle off the table and uncapping it. “What for?” she asks before taking a small swig and handing it back to Anya, already open._

_“Let me guess – apartment so new it doesn’t have proper glasses yet,” says Anya, narrowing her eyes at Lexa before sipping herself. She looks back into the flat – everything’s so_ clean. _A fresh start. “Have you even stocked up your pantry yet?”_

_“Please let us not talk about adult-sounding things while the whiskey exists.”_

_Anya tut-tuts loudly before walking back in and stepping into the kitchen. She checks the refrigerator first, laughing out loud when she finds it stocked with nothing but soda and water._ Like that is a surprise. _Anya breathes in before calling out to her. “Lex? Come in here for a sec -- we are going to have this conversation_ now. _”_

_*_

_“I’m new to this apartment shit, okay?”_

_Anya looks up from the list she’s making over the kitchen island; underlines_ emergency first aid kit _twice. “I forgive you for not having pots and pans, but really, you don’t have paracetamol or band aids. This is unacceptable.”_

_“As I have said—”_

_“Also, you have nothing but Cheetos in your pantry.”_

_“Who doesn’t like Cheetos?”_

_Anya shakes her head, grinning. “You have been in my kitchen, right?” Then, off Lexa’s sleepy nod: “Does this look like you’ve learned_ anything _from my kitchen?”_

_“Fine,” says Lexa, yawning. “Shopping in the morning?”_

_*_

_“No, no – we have enough chocolate in our cart.”_

_Lexa puts it in anyway, and after a good while of trying in vain to return Coke Vanillas and Cadbury bars back into the shelves, only to find them back in their_ cart _after taking her eyes off it for, like, fifteen seconds – Anya decides to stop trying._

_“You and your sugar-fueled PMS,” Anya murmurs, studying the knives on display._

_“Just because I don’t PMS like_ you _do,” Lexa quips, and Anya just levels her with a glare as she reaches over for the small fillet knife. “What? I hear you sometimes.”_

_“Hah—you really want to go there while I’m choosing knives for your kitchen?”_

_“No ma’am,” says Lexa, smiling as she walks away, pushing their cart around the corner and leaving Anya with her choice._

 

Anya walks over to help set up the stage; she could only take standing still for so long. Her last exchange with Lexa has left her quite… restless. _Something to do with my hands,_ she just thinks as she steps right next to Raven, reaching in to help hang the lights. Raven lets out a surprised laugh, turning and kissing Anya on the cheek.

“Thanks hon,” says Raven, and Anya tries to smile. Judging by the look of concern that slowly clouds Raven’s face, Anya realizes she doesn’t buy it. “What’s wrong?”

Anya shakes her head. _Nothing gets past her._ “Just bored.”

“Your conversation with Lexa earlier didn’t look boring at all,” says Raven casually, before turning back to the lights. They are just about to finish lining one side of the stage with lights when Raven asks: “I thought you were going to fix it?”

Anya purses her lips, trying to compose her response. She tries to focus on the task at hand -- it’s a pretty straightforward knot, yet amid her distraction she struggles with it. Anya lets out a frustrated sigh as she tugs, quite gracelessly, just to fasten the lights and keep them in place. “I was – I mean, I _am_ ,” she says, somewhat thankful that she has managed not to pull out any of the bulbs. “It’s just—this is _Lexa_. She can be very stubborn.”

“So I’ve seen,” says Raven, gently taking the rest of the cord out of Anya’s hands. “Are you really okay?”

Anya nods, shaking it out. _Wear it on your sleeve, why don’t you._ “I’m fine. Just antsy. I mean – what’s all this mystery, right?”

Raven laughs. “Bellamy’s probably the most ridiculous brother anybody could wish for. He and Octavia have been at this since _forever._ ”

“At what?”

“At trying to outdo each other via birthday surprises.”

“That’s a thing?”

“Last year, it was fire dancers,” Raven says matter-of-factly before hastily adding: “Octavia won that round. Bellamy almost got his sideburns razed.”

“Are we talking about last year’s fire dancers again, Reyes?” Bellamy steps in, handing each of them a can of beer, and Raven just laughs harder. “Because I am just about ready to rise above that embarrassing loss.”

Anya narrows her eyes at him, opening her beer. “Are you really trying to get me drunk?”

Bellamy laughs, swinging an arm over Raven’s shoulder and pulling her in closer. “How else can I compete with Raven, right?”

Raven fists his collar in her hand playfully, pulling at it before shoving him away, roughhousing like brothers. “Blake, Jesus,” she drawls. “Stop trying to steal my girl.”

“Why is Bellamy trying to steal your girl?” asks Clarke, chiming in from behind the bar. She’s wiping at the bar top while Lexa fiddles with the glasses right behind her, her back turned to the room. They move behind that space with a practiced ease that seems to suggest to Anya that they’d been here before – and _often._

 _And I didn’t know,_ Anya almost thinks, but then again. _Then again, not that I should have._

“Because he can’t steal yours,” Raven shoots back, looking at Anya as she takes a sip. Anya mirrors the move to temporarily hide her confusion. _What is going on?_ Raven reaches over to touch Anya’s face, murmuring, “It’s an ongoing inside joke.”

“That Bellamy’s out to steal everyone’s girls?” asks Anya.

“Stop turning your girlfriends against me,” Bellamy says, and when Raven laughs, she’s already pressed up so close to Anya that Anya feels her vibrate with the sound inside her chest. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

“We already _agreed_ to play in your _tentative_ band,” says Raven. “You can lay off being nice now.”

“A band?” asks Anya.

“A _band_ ,” Bellamy grins, walking over to the stage and holding his hands aloft, like he were cradling a guitar. “We’re doing a surprise set for Octavia.”

Anya laughs as she turns to Raven. “ _You’re_ in a band? All this time, and you haven’t told me?”

“Christ, that isn’t how it sounds,” says Raven, shaking her head. “I just got asked, like, three hours ago.”

“I actually _volunteered_ ,” says Clarke. “And all Bellamy could reward me with was a tambourine.” Lexa laughs, turning to wrap her arms around Clarke from behind and nuzzling her ear.

“Well. At least Lexa seems to think it’s hot,” Raven says. “I mean, I’m playing _drums_ and you don’t see Anya wrapping herself around me.”

Anya blinks. “Aw honey, come here,” she coos, wrapping Raven in her arms in kind. She lets her eyes shift from the stage to the bar, catching in the briefest of moments Lexa’s eye from over Clarke’s shoulder; holds it even as she tilts her head to plant a kiss on Raven’s temple. “Well, we both know you’ve got rhythm,” she tells Raven, tone teasing.

“And don’t you ever forget.”

Bellamy jumps off the stage, his phone ringing in his pocket. It’s Lincoln – Octavia’s getting _impatient_.

“I told you – you could have tapped _me_ for that,” says Raven. “Octavia’s my girl.”

“And Lincoln has this _covered,_ relax,” says Bellamy. “For now though – we have to practice.”

“No kidding,” says Clarke, dragging Lexa from behind the bar and toward the huddle. “Truth be told, I am kind of _nervous_.”

From behind Clarke, Lexa chuckles. “Are you always this annoying?” she asks, and Clarke just sticks her tongue out at her, making a face.

Anya is quiet through all of it, her mind filling with one thought: _What a sound._ And by that, she means Lexa’s laugh.Anya keeps her eyes pinned upon an empty space on Raven’s neck, tracing the way the skin ripples as she talks, before resting her gaze on a small spot behind Raven’s ear. Anya fiddles with her earlobe briefly – _something to do with my hands –_ trying her best not to meet Lexa’s eye again, just beyond the Raven’s ear.

And Raven fucking _purrs._ “Hon, come _on_ ,” she says, though her voice is nothing more than a hiss. “Don’t get me going.”

Anya smirks, letting Raven go with a light tug. “Fine,” she says, sighing. “Get to your _band practice._ ”

“A nice ring to it, no?”

“I suppose it’s too early to say for sure,” says Anya, and Raven rolls her eyes before walking toward Bellamy, who’s now on stage with Jasper and Miller. Raven pauses at the steps to thread her hand into Clarke’s, pulling her up the stage with her as their laughs echo in the small hall.

*

The first run-through is seventy five percent laughter. Bellamy and Raven try to get it off the ground by actually _counting,_ but then Clarke constantly chimes in with her ill-timed tambourine shaking and if Clarke weren’t so _confused_ it would have been altogether infuriating.

“Jesus, Lexa,” Bellamy says, laughing into the microphone as Clarke lets out another frustrated growl. “Is she always this rhythm-less?”

Lexa just raises both hands, shaking her head like she’s trying to wash her hands of it.

“God, do they even have a couple of hours to get _one song_ right?” Anya wonders aloud, almost surprised to hear her voice.

“If we take the tambourine away from Clarke, they might stand a chance,” Lexa says, and Anya turns to her, if only to see the look on her face. Lexa keeps her stoic gaze on the stage ahead, where Bellamy and Raven are laughing and Clarke just pouts at them throughout. Jasper and Miller just stand there, looking at each other confusedly as they loop the same three chords over and over.

“Well, if it’s a surprise Octavia is looking for,” Anya begins.

“Oh, this is a surprise all right,” says Lexa, turning her head finally to meet Anya’s eye, and for the first time in a very long time Anya sees her smiling again. “Sorry about earlier,” she deadpans, turning back to the stage. “I suppose we just have to get through this weekend, yes?”

 _What’s that supposed to mean?_ Anya almost asks, but she bites down on her tongue and just nods. “For Octavia,” she says instead.

“Aren’t you glad they can’t wheedle us into these things?” asks Lexa lightly, changing the subject.

“A pity actually – didn’t _you_ have a band phase or something?”

Lexa scoffs, crossing her arms. “Hardly,” she says. “Besides, that was _before_ I even entered the company.”

“Were you able to participate in any sort of gig?”

“No, it was just—a lot of random playing inside my bedroom, and maybe a couple of sessions with an instructor? I never really had the patience for it,” Lexa says. “My fingertips hurt.”

Anya laughs and Bellamy tries to start again, his voice breaking over the microphone. At the back, Raven tries to keep her rhythm, shaking her head and trying so hard not to laugh. “Will it be impolite if we walk out?” she asks Lexa.

“See, if we hadn’t quit smoking then we would have had an excuse,” Lexa says.

“Who said anything about quitting?”

*

“You know what they say about bicycles and smoking?” asks Anya as Lexa leans in to have the tip of her cigarette lit. Lexa exhales, fogging Anya’s line of sight, before letting out a small, quiet cough at the end.

“One never forgets – muscle memory,” says Lexa, her other hand coming up to wipe the smoke out of the space between. “Sorry. But is that even true? Do you honestly think you could get on a bike, say, in Copenhagen at this age and _not_ fall over?”

“Careful,” Anya smirks around her cigarette. “You’re doing that age thing again.”

Lexa laughs. “Sorry, it’s just – it’s been _eons_ since I last rode a bike even? I don’t think I could keep one upright for more than a few meters.”

Anya tries not to think about Lexa trying to shakily negotiate through a bike ride – maybe in a park? Under the sun. _Young again, for a while._ “So maybe it’s a bad metaphor,” Anya concedes, blowing smoke to the side, a thin column of white in the dark. The night still smells like rain.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Lexa smiles easily now; perhaps the dim light of the bar’s signage helps. “Nevertheless, here I am – do you know how long I’ve been clean?”

Anya shrugs. “Sorry,” she says, grinning like she doesn’t mean it, not really. “But aren’t you glad to be outside?”

“Fuck _yes_ ,” says Lexa, and Anya looks away at that, trying not to focus on the way she says _fuck._ “Also, apology not required, really. I was going to say I have never been clean.”

Anya feels something in her chest give way at Lexa’s unexpected confession. _Is this trust?_ “What about Clarke?”

Lexa shrugs, taking a final hit off her cigarette before dropping it to the ground and crushing it underfoot. “What do you mean, what about Clarke?” she asks, tugging at Anya’s wrist and smoothly sliding another stick from the pack she’s holding. She steps closer and lights it off the cigarette dangling from the corner of Anya’s lips, cupping a hand around the flame, and in that brief moment, it feels like they’re back at some fire exit again, trying to sneak smoke breaks in between meetings.

“Does Clarke mind?”

Lexa tilts her head back as she blows smoke upward, and Anya remembers to check the sky for stars, only to find that the night is too overcast for any. She wonders how that must make Lexa feel; if she’s still into watching constellations at midnight. “We’re on a don’t ask, don’t tell sort of arrangement when we’re apart,” she says. “The past couple of months have been maddening, business-wise. We haven’t been really – I’m just trying to make this weekend perfect for her.”

“I see.”

“I mean – you know how much I hate city driving. In the _rain._ ”

 _Oh, of fucking course._ Anya takes a drag off her cigarette and nods. “Right,” she says. “And here I thought you were upset because—” Anya trails off, catching herself. “Never mind.”

“Oh, don’t doubt it,” says Lexa, waving her cigarette-holding hand around, sketching in the dark with thin wisps of smokes. “I’m _still_ upset.”

Anya is quiet for a while, unable to come up with a proper response immediately. _Should I apologize? But for what?_ “All right,” she finds herself saying instead. Like she had anything better to say.

“ _All right?_ ” Lexa spits back out, laughing lightly. She takes a quick drag before, “Where were you, Ahn?”

“You knew damn well where I was,” Anya offers softly.

“Did I?” Anya drops her cigarette, and when she looks up, Lexa is staring at her, like she were issuing a challenge. “You just— _disappeared._ ”

 _I was just there,_ Anya thinks, underneath all the unreturned messages and unanswered calls. _You knew what I had to do._ “Life happened,” says Anya. “Just like it did to you.”

“I _needed_ you,” Lexa says. “There. Did that make you feel better?”

“Lex.”

“You could have just told me this was how you wanted to proceed.”

Anya has to laugh at that. _Lexa, demanding clarity, when all we’ve ever done is dance around each other?_ “And how exactly is that?”

Lexa blinks before furrowing her brows, looking somewhat angered. “Like you wanted to cut me loose.”

 _Oh fuck you, Lexa,_ Anya wants to say, biting down hard on her tongue. _We will always be tethered to each other loosely._ “That wasn’t my intention.”

“That was how it felt.”

“I’m not apologizing for something that was simply misunderstood.”

Lexa opens her mouth like she wants to say something, but she closes it immediately and settles for a laugh instead, low and bitter-sounding. “That’s just cold, Ahn.”

Anya’s about to respond when a movement toward the door of the bar catches their attention. When they turn their heads to look, they see _Lincoln_ trying to restrain a giggling, blindfolded Octavia in his arms. Noticing the two of them by the door, Lincoln mouths at them: _Please._

“I think we have to go,” says Anya, nodding at Lincoln before heading to the door. “What do you say we just let this birthday pass first?”

Lexa takes Anya’s extended hand and shakes it. “Fine,” she says, her grip tight. “For Octavia.”

“For Octavia.”

*

Octavia’s early arrival pushes Bellamy’s hand, and it leaves them with little choice.

“Let’s just wing it,” Raven helpfully suggests, and Bellamy just nods and says, “Fuck it.”

When Octavia removes her blindfold, the stage is already swathed in too much light and smoke. (Clarke’s idea, by the way, to which Lexa had just commented, _How dramatic._ ) Raven starts the count with her sticks up in the air, and Bellamy joins in tentatively, a low hum to go with it.

Anya leans back against the bar, head tilted. “Is it safe to say it isn’t as bad as we left it?”

“Wait a bit,” says Lexa, and the moment Bellamy starts singing is the moment Anya realizes how right Lexa is. “See?” she says, shoulders shaking as she laughs. “Told you.”

Beside Bellamy, Clarke tries to make some rhythmic sounds, but to no avail. “No offense, but your girlfriend—”

“—has tons of very medium-specific talents,” Lexa completes for her, laughing just a bit harder. “Just because your wife’s a percussion genius doesn’t mean you can shit on mine,” she adds, though the tone is light.

“I’m as surprised as you are,” Anya just says.

In the middle of the dance floor is Octavia -- blindfold now torn, she’s looking up at her brother and her friends, laughing out loud with her mouth wide open and her arms outstretched. Lincoln stands right beside her, arms crossed in front of his chest, grinning.

“Are we in a new song already?” asks Anya, genuinely confused.

Lexa just shrugs. “Who knows?”

Bellamy yells melodramatically into the microphone as the song hits a particularly emotional crescendo, though Anya supposes the _real_ emotion is buried under all that _giggling_. Clarke’s still doing her best with the tambourine, and Lexa just falls right beside Anya, still laughing.

“My stomach hurts from too much clenching,” says Lexa. “Clarke is _hilarious._ ”

“I don’t think it’s intentional though.”

“I don’t think _any_ of this is intentional.”

Somewhere in the middle of a stanza, Octavia climbs up on the stage herself, and Anya can tell the exact moment Raven loses her rhythm as Octavia goes over to her to sit on her lap, arms around her shoulder loosely. Clarke herself walks over, shaking her tambourine vigorously throughout, and Anya hears Lexa let out a low whistle.

After a while, the beat goes completely out as Octavia, Raven and Clarke just keep gossiping in the corner, leaving the boys to play the same chord progression on repeat. Bellamy looks over at them, guitar slung over his shoulder, enjoying the moment.

“Fuck, they all look like they’re about to start belting out Four Non Blondes,” Lexa says.

Anya laughs. “Twenty-five years of my life and still—” She trails off as Lexa groans, rolling her eyes at her. “Were we ever this young?” she finds herself musing out loud, standing there at the periphery with Lexa. _Outsiders looking in._

Lexa’s smile fades lightly as she keeps looking on. “We were never young.”

 


	4. riptide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made a writing playlist for this. it is here: http://8tracks.com/adrmaloud/thunderlove  
> this serves as your warning. =)

 

_On the day Lexa’s father dies, Anya is in a meeting with sponsors for an event in the pipeline. She is among the first few to be alerted, via a tense phone call from one of the assistants who happened to pass by. Anya leaves the meeting immediately with a curt apology, before rushing to Alexander’s office, meeting up with Indra in one of the corridors and arriving just ahead of the in-house doctor, furious and afraid – all these emotions she isn’t familiar with at all._

_“Where is Lexa?” Anya asks Indra, whose ever stoic face now gives away a hint of panic._

_“I don’t know.”_

_“Keep her out,” she says, glancing at her watch. “She doesn’t need to see this.”_

_Indra nods, moving for the phone. “We have to get Alexander to the hospital.”_

_The doctor merely shakes his head, though he doesn’t have to say anything for his pessimism to come across. Anya feels her throat close up, the air leaving the room entirely._ How is this even happening? _For a moment, her hand almost comes up to grab the doctor by the lapel of his coat._ Do something. _Instead, she closes it into a tight fist and pins it to her side. “Where the fuck is the ambulance?”_

 _“It is coming,” says Indra. “There’s nothing more we can do here, Anya.” The way Indra says it – with a hand around Anya’s elbow holding her gently, tugging her away; the helplessness in her tone that is so foreign to Anya’s ear. Anya doesn’t budge; she is this close to screaming but her throat feels so dry. “We_ have _to get to Lexa, before—”_

_“Before what?”_

_Anya turns around, cursing the half-open door._

_And then, the softest of sounds: “Dad?”_

_*_

_Anya stays with Lexa, while Indra heads to the hospital with Lexa’s mother. Lexa refuses to come, and Anya refuses to leave._

_“I’ll be fine,” Lexa says softly, sinking into her father’s chair in his darkened office and staring out the window. Anya watches her from across the room, unable to offer any response in return. Anya is horrible at sympathy; she feels so out of her depth._

_“I’ll stay here anyway,” says Anya. It is getting dark, and she’s still waiting for Indra’s phone call._ Like we don’t already know what has come to pass. _“Are you hungry?”_

_Lexa shakes her head. “No. I’m all right.”_

_“Lexa—”_

_“Can you take me to the yacht tonight?”_

_“The yacht?” Anya blinks. She wants to say: Perhaps this is not the proper time. Or: We have to be there for the first night of your father’s wake._

_Instead, Anya pushes herself off the couch and peels Lexa off her father’s chair gently by the wrist. “Come on,” she says, and when Lexa turns to her, her eyes are tired and red, and_ Oh, _Anya just thinks._ What am I going to do with you?

_This tenderness is strange and unfamiliar and yet – and yet – with Lexa, she decides to try._

_*_

_“Where do the dead go when they die?” asks Lexa. They’re back in the captain’s cabin, drinking leftover vodka, and Lexa’s captain’s hat is askew on her head. They had just buried Alexander that morning, and they have spent the rest of the afternoon holed up here, still in their funeral suits, Lexa’s shirt untucked and tie undone._

_Anya sits back, contemplating the question as she holds the bottle close to her chest._

_“I don’t really know,” she says. “Depends on who you ask, I guess. Heaven and hell. Stars and constellations. To a clearinghouse of souls, preparing for their next deployment. Who knows?”_

_Lexa chuckles softly at the word ‘deploy.’ “You make it sound like these souls are soldiers heading into war, or something.”_

_“Well, life is a battle,” says Anya. “I have always wondered about the permanence of this afterlife people like speaking of – is it like this big hotel we just all check into at the end of everything?”_

_Lexa stretches her arm out at Anya, motioning for the bottle she’s holding, and Anya takes a quick swig from it before handing it over. “That is one massive hotel,” says Lexa before drinking. “I don’t buy the afterlife shit, though.”_

_“Language,” Anya murmurs, testing a grin. She breathes out when Lexa grins back, no matter how faintly. “What shit do you buy then?”_

_Lexa shrugs. “Getting reborn seems cool. I think.”_

_“You think your dad’s going to be reborn?”_

_“Maybe?” Lexa breathes in deeply, and Anya knows just when that long inhale turns into a sniffle that Lexa tries to hide. She does not call Lexa out on it; she knows better. With every day, Anya keeps knowing better. “Somewhere perhaps – he’s getting started, and when I die, maybe I’ll join him there, too, you know? We’re all…_ tied together, _I think. Tethered. Like we’re part of some general cosmic plan. He’ll always be someone. I’ll always be someone. You’ll always be someone.” Lexa pauses, breathing in before continuing. “We’ll meet again. And again – and again…” She trails off, choking back a sob. “Shit.”_

_“Hey.” Anya leans closer, if only to take the bottle gently from Lexa, her hands wrapped around Lexa’s warmly. “Let me get this for you.”_

_Lexa loosens her grip after a while, the bottle slipping from her grasp and into Anya’s hold. Anya takes a moment before setting the bottle aside, now about three-quarters of the way done. “I just—I don’t understand,” Lexa begins, her voice smaller and smaller still. “One moment, he’s here. The next—he’s just… gone.”_

_“The world spins madly on,” Anya just says, after a while. “It’s just how it is.”_

_Later, when the vodka is done and they’re out sitting at the edge of the empty pool, Lexa leans back and looks up – the stars are out tonight, thankfully, and Anya lets out a long sigh._

_“What do we do now?” asks Lexa._

_Until then, the full burden of it hasn’t really hit Anya yet. But now, with Lexa leaning against her, Anya starts feeling stark weight of it, hanging heavy on her shoulder._

_*_

_Anya finds herself acting in Mrs Vine’s stead, often. “Until Lexa is ready,” she says. “I want to have nothing to do with that.” Had she not been talking with Alexander’s grieving widow, Anya would have readily pleaded with her, but instead she bites down on her tongue, hanging her head in agreement._

_“It’s as the widow wishes.” The first time Anya has to use that line on the board to justify her temporary takeover, she is met with palpable tension and confusion. Alexander is dead; is the company as good as finished?_

I did not ask for any of this, _Anya thinks, staring at the paperwork still left on Alexander’s desk._

_“Anya?” There’s a quick knock on the door, and when Anya turns her head, she sees Indra peering in. “Don’t forget you have interviews tomorrow.”_

Shit. _“Yeah, of course,” she nods, rubbing at her forehead. “New assistants, right?”_

_“Looks like you could use a handful,” says Indra. “You should get some rest.”_

_“The board will pounce as soon as we rest,” she snaps right back. Indra merely breathes in, like she had totally seen that coming. “Shit. I’m sorry. It’s just—”_

_“Perhaps, the coup won’t be tonight,” Indra says, her tone resolute and ultimately comforting. “You’ll be doing no one a favor if_ you _die from exhaustion, Anya.”_

 _That earns the smallest laugh from her. “You make the strangest points,” she says. She slips her phone out and scrolls to Lexa’s number._ Where the fuck is she? _“Have you seen Lexa today?”_

_“No. I thought she was taking today off?”_

Again. Shit. _“Right. Guess I better swing by her apartment to check if she needs anything.”_

_“You do that,” Indra says, nodding. “I worry about that girl.”_

_Anya swallows hard, looking at Indra. “She’s grieving. What do you expect?” Anya shifts her eyes, trying to avoid the truth held in Indra’s gaze all along – Lexa’s in trouble, and they both know it._

_“I don’t have to remind you to keep an eye on her, do I?”_

_“No,” Anya just says. “You really don’t.”_

_*_

_Lexa’s apartment is dark when Anya arrives. She lets herself in using the spare key – a copy she’s held since Alexander’s passing._ Just in case, _was what she told Lexa, who had grudgingly given it up even, like Anya hadn’t been staying over far too often anyway, by that time._

 _Anya enters, careful not to step on Lexa’s shoes._ She’s home, _Anya thinks, nudging them to the side. There’s music softly playing in the living room, but the lights are out – and apparently, so is Lexa, whom Anya sees sprawled on the couch. An empty bottle of whiskey is on the living room table, and Anya doesn’t need to see much more before figuring out what has happened here._

Well, shit. _She heads to the kitchen to get a glass of water and some aspirin before walking back into the living room and nudging Lexa awake._

_“Jesus,” Lexa groans when she comes to, stretching and sitting up, legs folded under her. “What are you doing here?”_

_Anya looks at her sternly, pushing the glass of water into her hand. “Drink.”_

_Lexa smirks. “What? More?”_

_“Do not be smart with me,” Anya warns, all the edges around her words retained. “Where have you been all day? You were supposed to join me in a meeting this morning.”_

_“I’m sorry, okay?” says Lexa, losing the smirk as she rubs her eyes and runs her hand through her hair. “I didn’t—I forgot.”_

_“God, Lexa,” Anya says, shaking her head. “That was a board meeting. Have you any idea how important—”_

_“I don’t even want this,” Lexa interrupts, draining her glass and taking her aspirin. “Please. Just have it.”_

_“That is_ not _in your father’s plan,” Anya says, angrier than intended. “You were born for this.”_

_Lexa just shakes her head, eyes closed. “I did not ask for this.”_

_“Neither did I.”_

_When Lexa says nothing, Anya gets off the couch and takes the empty bottle with her into the kitchen. “Anya, wait.” There is shuffling behind her, and when Anya looks over her shoulder, she sees Lexa opening her refrigerator, if only to put a little light in the room._

_“Lex,” sighs Anya. “Please. You have to keep it together.”_

_“I know.” Lexa steps closer, and Anya leans back against the kitchen counter, eyeing Lexa as she approaches. She looks so frail, reaching out to brace her shaky hand against the counter behind Anya, closing the space between. “I am trying,” she says, leaning her forehead against Anya’s shoulder. “But it’s so damn hard.”_

_Pressed this close, Lexa feels so_ warm _; Anya puts a tentative hand on Lexa’s hip, steadying her. “I’m here to help,” she says, and when Lexa lifts her head to face her, she’s already so_ dangerously _close._

_The kiss catches her off-guard; Lexa tastes whiskey-soaked and desperate and the ache in it fogs Anya’s senses for a moment too long that she does not remember to push her away immediately. “Lexa,” she says softly, hand firm against her shoulder. “This isn’t you.”_

_“Ahn, please,” Lexa says, voice so thin it breaks at the edges. “This helps.”_

Helps what? _Anya thinks about the company and the workload that is waiting for her in the morning._ This helps nothing, not especially you. _“I can’t do this right now, Lex.”_

_“What?”_

_Anya swallows hard, licking her lips briefly and registering the faint taste of alcohol that Lexa has left. “You’re drunk, and this isn’t you.”_

_“But what if it is?” asks Lexa. “What if this has been here all this while?_

_“Can you even hear yourself right now?” Anya asks back, keeping her tone kind. Gentle. She lifts her hand to cup Lexa’s cheek, rubbing her thumb absently upon a cheekbone. “Get some sleep. Forget this in the morning.”_

_Lexa looks away at the word,_ forget – _but in doing so, she offers Anya her cheek, and Anya thinks,_ Oh, how small this heart must be in my hand _. She pulls Lexa’s face closer, if only to plant a final kiss upon the corner of her mouth, where the whiskey still lingers._

_“Good night, Lexa,” she just says as she pushes herself off the kitchen counter, heading back into the living room, leaving Lexa behind._

_(Anya doesn’t leave that night, not really; instead, she waits for Lexa to finally go into her room, staying on the couch until morning.)_

_*_

_They go back and forth between apartments. Anya sticks with Lexa, most nights, making sure there is no alcohol in the house, and that Lexa wakes early enough to make it to a nine a.m. board meeting._

_“Whatever happened to Miss ‘I’m not your babysitter’?” asks Lexa as she gets into Anya’s car._

_“Let’s just say my job description has been temporarily changed,” says Anya, putting her sunglasses on. “Seat belt.”_

_Lexa rolls her eyes. “Christ,” she just mutters under her breath._

_Some nights, they spend in Anya’s apartment, and Anya could sense how much_ lighter _Lexa feels in this space, like she’s just been rid of too much weight.  Emptied. “We could stay here, if you want?” Anya offers over dinner one night. “Lock up your apartment for a while.”_

_When Lexa looks up, Anya had been ready for her idea to be shot down; she’d been ready with her quick defense on her tongue. However, Lexa just says, “Are you sure?” and her voice was so soft, Anya would have missed it entirely had she not been waiting for it._

_The nights in Anya’s apartment are familiar but different; they are no longer the people they were. Some nights, Anya catches herself watching Lexa preparing for the following morning’s board meeting, glass of wine in hand_ (Just the one, Ahn, _is how Lexa pleads for it._ Please. It helps. _Not that Anya could refuse that quiet request), and marveling at how this Lexa already feels so worn and exhausted. Withdrawn._

_Days go by; they talk little, if at all. Lexa’s smiles are few and far between by now, and Anya is too busy to mind, the burdens of the company crowding her in._

_Months go by; they drift past each other, ghosts almost, brushing against each other in corridors with soft hellos and see you laters. “See you at home,” Anya almost finds herself saying once, before quickly dismissing that uncomfortable stretch in her heart._ Home. _The word lodges itself at the bottom of her throat, and Anya takes in a deep breath._

 _It doesn’t register as pain, not really._ Not your turn for pain, _she chides herself, thinking about Lexa, who’d just had the rug pulled from under her; Lexa, who had only wanted to love someone, only to be pushed away._

But what if this has been here all this while?

_“Anya?”_

_When Anya blinks, she finds herself sitting across Lexa in Alexander’s old office – oh, all these things she’d inherited from Alexander: This room. This company._

_This Girl._

_Anya sighs, thinking about how the days have come and gone; about how now it is one and a half years later. Looking at Lexa in this light, Anya can see starkly the marks the past handful of months have made; her face as good as battle-scarred._

_“Do I have something on my face?” Lexa asks. There’s a small smile that plays on her lips now, and Anya thinks about how it’s been a long time since she’s seen anything like that._

_Anya reaches into her pocket and fishes out the set of keys to Lexa’s apartment, untouched for so long. She slides them over to Lexa, the metal scratching the table’s surface lightly._

_“You’re ready,” Anya says, off the slow surprise that unfolds on Lexa’s face. “Let’s set the CEO turnover ceremony for Tuesday.”_

_(Tuesday, Anya just thinks, remembering that first day.)_

 

The party devolves into karaoke; of course it does. Octavia insists that Bellamy give up the microphone, and he grudgingly hands it over to his sister, who repeatedly invokes ‘birthday privileges’ over the noise of the laughing crowd, now massed together as one drunk heap on the stage.

Lexa and Anya keep to themselves at the bar, staying at the far edge of the room, splitting a bottle of vodka between them.

“I think things are about to get worse than your Four Non-Blondes scenario earlier,” says Anya, pouring Lexa another. Lexa smirks, knocking the shot back, just as Octavia starts with Bohemian Rhapsody. Lexa chokes on the edge of her drink, coughing lightly. “Oh, here we go.”

“ _Jesus,_ ” Lexa hisses, watching Clarke shake her tambourine in the air again at Octavia’s drawn out _Mamaaa._ Anya just laughs, amused at how their eyes are all closed, these dreamy-drunk looks on her faces.

 _Well damn,_ Anya thinks. _I’m drunk, but not that drunk._

“This feels like one of those anniversaries--” Lexa begins, nudging Anya’s elbow lightly. Anya notes the slight slur in Lexa’s tone – the way her _r’_ s have begun rolling, all _soft_. “Remember when Jeremy from HR hijacked that one party from a couple of years ago?”

Anya groans. “Was that the guy who sang Starship?” Off Lexa’s nod, Anya adds: “God, I wish I could un-see the entire thing.”

“I don’t know which was actually worse – that he tried to _propose_ to Annie of Accounting during Open Mic, or that Annie flipped out and left,” says Lexa, chuckling at the memory.

“Before that night, I honestly thought _Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us_ was a fool-proof song,” Anya says, humming lightly at the end of it. Lexa laughs, leaning against Anya heavily, lifting her empty glass at her and shaking it lightly. _Is she drunk?_ Anya asks herself, briefly remembering the time she’d been so adamant at counting Lexa’s drinks.  “I guess there’s always the first time.”

“I wonder how Annie’s doing,” Lexa muses. “I think that was the final straw.”

“Mm-hmm.” Anya shrugs, pouring the last of the vodka’s contents into Lexa’s glass anyway. “And just like that, we’re out.” Anya scans the room for some unattended bottle of _anything,_ and when her eyes sweep past the stage, Clarke has already seized the microphone and is doing the next stanza.

“You always did have a penchant for the wild one,” says Anya lightly, and Lexa just rolls her eyes, flipping Anya off. Anya clutches her chest and pretends to be insulted; Lexa hasn’t felt this _casual_ in a long while.

“I swear, your wife and Octavia are _this close_ to making out,” Lexa shoots back, side-eyeing the shenanigans on-stage: Clarke on the microphone, Bellamy idly strumming his guitar and Octavia and Raven talking with their faces really close to each other, sitting off to the side, tambourine forgotten between them.

Anya finds herself smiling at the sight. _Of all people, certainly_ I _would understand._ “Oh, let them,” she says, toying with her empty glass on the bar. “It’s Octavia’s birthday, after all.”

Lexa says nothing as she keeps looking on, watching the scene unfold – just a bunch of twenty-somethings trying to be young again, even for just one more night.

*

When the wreckage of the party clears, Anya finds Lexa alone on the stage, picking up Bellamy’s guitar. The group has moved to Lincoln’s second-floor studio, and rather miraculously. How such intoxicated persons could actually negotiate past a flight of stairs is a baffling thing.

“Could you still play?” Anya asks, sitting beside Lexa, their legs dangling off the edge of the stage.

“Maybe?” Lexa slurs, cradling the guitar in her hands like she were feeling its weight. “Muscle memory, right?” Anya leans closer as Lexa plays the first chord. “I think you know this,” Lexa says, smiling even, and Anya ignores the tightening in her chest.

Anya takes a moment to listen to Lexa’s first tentative progressions, before: “Is this the dentist song?” she asks, teasing.

Lexa elbows her lightly. “Shut up,” she murmurs, strumming and strumming. “ _I was scared of pretty girls—_ ”

 _“—and starting conversations_ ,” Anya completes, nodding. “Yeah, I remember this one.”

Lexa purses her lips, like she’s trying not to smile too widely, and in this moment, it feels like none of the months between have gone down, and Anya can’t help the hope that blooms in her chest.

 _Maybe,_ she lets herself think, just as Lexa starts whistling, long and low.

 


	5. cross my heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am about to take liberties at assigning surnames, and I am asking for your indulgence in advance.

_Anya introduces Costia to Lexa on Lexa’s first anniversary party as CEO._

_“Who’s the hottie running the world?” Lexa asks, whispering into Anya’s ear as they try to stand unnoticed in the crowd._

_“Which one?”_

_Lexa rolls her eyes. “The one in red.”_

_“Headset in ear, slender neck, criminal cheekbones?” Anya takes a sip from her drink and conveniently omits,_ Your type is showing. _“Love her shoes.”_

_“Name, Ahn,” says Lexa, tapping hers against the floor impatiently, and Anya just laughs. “What? Can’t a girl want to get to know her guests?”_

_Anya notes with fondness how Lexa does not lead with,_ Can’t a CEO want to know her guests. _“Well, Madame CEO,” she begins, injecting it herself. Lexa bristles, still somewhat uncomfortable with her relatively new title. “That’s Costia Gold.”_

_“Gold,” Lexa repeats dumbly, draining her glass as she stares at Costia walking the length of the ballroom, the hem of her dress kissing the carpet, eyes widening at her realization. “Oh. You mean--”_

_“Yeah,” says Anya. “So she_ is _technically_ _really running the world – it’s their hotel’s name on the line.”_

_Lexa smirks, tilting her head. “Well, can you tell her she’s doing a mighty fine job at it?”_

_“Tell her yourself,” Anya scoffs, reaching for a fresh round of drinks. “Because here she comes.” She hears Lexa draw in a quick breath, and Anya tries to keep herself from laughing as she extends a hand to Costia._

_“Miss Gold,” Anya greets. Costia receives her hand in a firm handshake, before leaning in for a kiss on the cheek. “Lovely place.”_

_“Great party,” says Costia, before glancing over at Lexa, eyeing her with a glint in her eye that has even Anya’s gut churning. “I believe I have not been given the chance to introduce myself, Miss Vine.”_

Oh, of course, she knows, _Anya thinks, studying the way Costia practically glides over to Lexa, hand easy on Lexa’s hip already. Anya averts her eyes; tries to shove every irrational thought out of her head, for the meantime._

_“Please. It’s Lexa,” she answers, and it surprises Anya, how Lexa manages_ that _smoothly._

_“And it’s Costia.”_

_“I know.”_

_Costia laughs at that, deep and rich, and while Anya doesn’t remember being dismissed out loud, she slips away anyhow, unnoticed for the rest of the night._

_(And though Anya won’t admit to this, she does spend most of the night trying to keep Lexa within her line of sight, mentally counting the glasses the Lexa is emptying throughout, and casually checking whose hands are where, like an old aunt._

Old aunt, _she scoffs at herself in her head._ Whatever, Anya. _)_

_*_

_Later that night, she passes by Gustus standing near Lexa’s car at the parking lot._

_“Miss Vine is not with you?” he asks, straightening himself. He towers over Anya, but his face has a soft expression. “Is something wrong?”_

_Anya stops walking for a bit, shaking her head. “It’s nothing,” she says, moving toward her car. “Call me when she gets home.”_

_“You mean Miss Vine is spending the night at_ her _apartment?”_

If she goes home tonight at all. _Anya looks away to hide the wince that ghosts across her face at the thought. “Just. Call me all right? Whatever she decides.” Anya unlocks her door and gets in, glancing at Gustus one last time from her window._

_“Yes ma’am,” Gustus says, bowing his head._

_Anya drives out slowly, wondering if she should head straight home, before ultimately deciding against it. The clock on her dashboard says it isn’t even half past midnight yet; she has time._

_When she left Lexa without saying goodbye, she and Costia had been dancing. Or, at least, it seemed like Costia was dancing, and Lexa was simply holding her upright, an arm fastened tightly around Costia’s waist, like she were going to come apart if not held. Anya thinks about how awkward it all came across, yes, but oh, how lovely Costia moved – like a river, rounding bends and stones._

Shit, _Anya thinks._ What the fuck is this place and how did I get here? _She drives around aimlessly for a bit, before ending up at the pier where Lexa’s yacht is moored. She gets out of her car and breathes in the sea-salt in the night air, wrapping her coat tighter around herself at the chill that greets her._

_The yacht sits quietly on the water, and Anya closes her eyes, trying to focus on the small sounds of the sea, kissing the yacht over and over. Given the hour, it’s too dark to see anything anyway, and Anya knows sooner or later it’s going to be unbearably cold out here, so she takes whatever the moment can give, her hands buried in her coat pockets._

_*_

_It’s all right, until it isn’t._

_*_

_Anya eventually learns to forgive Lexa for all the dinners dropped in favor of dates._

_“Sorry, Ahn,” is how Lexa apologizes one Sunday morning. She swings by Anya’s apartment with breakfast and_ fucking _flowers, to which Anya just scoffs, a brow raised as she opens her door wider anyway, beckoning Lexa to come in._

_Lexa steps into the flat, flowers carefully cradled in one arm, a small smile on her lips. “There’s too many of them. From Costia,” she just explains, and in that small moment it dawns on Anya what this is – what this could be._

_“Ah, an overflow,” Anya says, taking the flowers anyway and setting them near the window. While she had never pegged Lexa to be the flower sort of person, Anya concedes they are lovely anyhow, especially under the morning sun. “How was your night?”_

_Lexa launches herself excitedly at it – some event at the hotel, some pianist as a guest, and, most importantly: An open bar. “We should rent that ballroom for the next party,” says Lexa, eyes still wide, like she’s still seeing the venue in her head. “She did a fantastic job on the interiors.”_

_“I_ bet _she did a fantastic job elsewhere as well,” Anya quips, and Lexa laughs, kicking at Anya’s shin. They’re seated side-by-side on Anya’s couch, drinking Anya’s coffee and eating Lexa’s bagels, and almost it feels like the usual Sunday mornings with Lexa, only Lexa did not wake up from her guest room today, and she has this ridiculous goofy grin on her face that Anya’s never really seen before, not quite._

_(Of course, that doesn’t make Anya sad; why should it?)_

_*_

_Weeks go by. At some point, even the Sunday mornings are hard-won; it takes some getting used to, this quiet, but eventually Anya makes her peace with it, staring at the flowers Lexa left the last time and making a mental note to either press these wilting things or throw them away._ Tomorrowmorning, maybe, _Anya just tells herself._

_She barely sees Lexa, even in the office; barely hears from her even, apart from the necessary work-related phone calls. Anya tries not to mind the absence, though the way Indra glares at her at the second board meeting that Lexa misses alerts Anya to a problem that she has to address, sooner or later._

_“You’re losing sight of her again,” Indra tells her after the meeting, murmuring low even as the board room is empty. “What is Lexa up to now?”_

I wish I could tell you, _Anya almost finds herself saying. “I wish I knew,” is what she tells Indra instead. “I don’t really—she’s technically my boss now. She doesn’t report to me, it’s the other way around.”_

_“She’s still your responsibility.”_

_“She no longer takes orders from me.”_

_“But she will listen to you,” Indra says. “Come on, Anya. You know this is unacceptable.”_

_The truth is: Anya does. It’s unacceptable, and unprofessional, but at the back of her mind Anya also knows Lexa’s just being_ Lexa – _she’s twenty something, and in love, maybe, and maybe a part of Anya wants to let her. Whatever that takes._

_“I’ll see what I can do,” Anya says, non-committal. Indra leaves her eventually, but not after one last hard look._

And in the end, it still comes down to me, _Anya thinks wryly, putting away her notes for the day. She feels her pocket for her phone; thinks about calling Lexa briefly, before pushing the thought out of her head._

_*_

_Anya drops by Lexa’s apartment unannounced, the night before the next board meeting, and the first thing she notices is the smell of cigarette smoke that leads to Lexa’s door._

This fucker. _She tries the door, regretting for a moment how she had left her copy of Lexa’s keys in her office drawer. She hears shuffling inside, a murmured curse, and a groan just as the door swings open._

_“Oh. It’s you.” There’s a light slur in Lexa’s voice, and a fading lipstick smudge at the corner of her mouth. She runs her hand through her hair, unruly like she’d just been roused out of bed, and even with the door partly obscuring her, Anya can see how the buttons on her shirt are askew._

_“Fun night?” Anya deadpans, pushing the door open wider and stepping in. Lexa moves to the side slightly, but not enough to keep Anya from brushing against her as she gets inside. “And since when have you been smoking?”_

_“Costia’s,” Lexa murmurs, sniffing as she pads after Anya. “What are you doing here?”_

_Anya reaches over to turn on the main lights, if only to see fully the mess that is the living room._ What the fuck just happened here? _Anya proceeds to lift the bottles off the table and the floor even. “I could ask you the same thing,” she says coolly._

_“I live here,” comes Lexa’s equally cold reply._

_“You could have smoked in the terrace,” says Anya. “Taking the stench out of your couch is going to be a fucker.”_

_“It’s_ my _couch. I don’t see how that is any of your concern.”_

_“I’m not here to pick a fight,” Anya says, looking around to remind herself how Lexa is right._ None of these is mine. _“But Indra has been nagging me to haul you into the next board meeting.”_

_Lexa groans, sinking into the couch, just as Anya bends over to collect the empty bottles littering the table and taking them with her to the kitchen for disposal. “When’s the next one?”_

_“Tomorrow.”_

_“Jesus fuck,” says Lexa, and Anya walks back into the living room, seating herself beside Lexa, swatting her shoulder lightly._

_“Language,” says Anya. Lexa grimaces, knitting her brows and pouting. “Nine sharp at the board room.” And then: “Are you hungover? How much have you had to drink?”_

_Lexa smiles absently, rubbing at her face. “I honestly do not know.”_

_“Is this why you’ve been missing the board meetings?”_

_“I missed just the one—”_

_“You’ve missed two,” Anya interrupts quietly. Lexa takes her hands off her face and Anya can’t help but stare – faded lipstick smudge aside, something in this Lexa has changed, and Anya isn’t sure she likes it._ But then, who am I to say? _she chides herself._ It doesn’t matter if I don’t like it.

_“What?”_

_Anya sighs. “Look, I know this thing with Costia is all new and exciting and what-not – and I really_ really _do not care what you girls are up to together, but please – show up before the board tomorrow.”_

_There’s a long pause as Lexa inhales deeply. “Yeah, all right.” Lexa hangs her head and lets her hair cover her face, and Anya, unable to catch her own hand, reaches over and swipes the pad of her thumb over where the slight pink of Costia’s lipstick still remains at the corner of Lexa’s mouth._

_“Wake up early and fix your face, all right?” Anya says. She meant to come across as firm and gruff, but instead she sounds all too fond._ Damn it. _Lexa tries to push her off, albeit weakly, a slight drunk smile on her lips._

_“I will.”_

_“Now get your ass to bed. I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty.”_

_“What?”_

_Anya rolls her eyes as she stands. “Fine. Eight forty-five.”_

_“No, I meant – you’re leaving?”_

_Anya stops in her tracks, looking over her shoulder._ Would you want me to stay? _she almost asks, but she bites down on her tongue. “I should go,” she finds herself saying instead, noting the way Lexa’s face falls ever so lightly. “I have to prep for tomorrow’s meeting.”_

_“Oh. Right.”_

_There’s a long moment’s pause before Anya asks: “Will you be okay?”_

_“I’ll be fine.”_

_“Good night, Lex.” Anya pauses a final time by the door, if only to catch Lexa’s eye._

_Lexa nods before looking away. “Good night.”_

_*_

_Lexa gets back on track, but Anya’s relief is temporary. After successfully attending four board meetings in a row, Lexa starts skipping again, her attendance getting spotty. This time, the Board no longer holds back its tongue, and in more than a handful of encounters, Anya finds herself having to put her foot down in Lexa’s defense._

_“I thought you had her in line,” says Indra, gritting her teeth as she corners Anya after one of the board meetings._

_“If I may remind you once again, Indra—”_

_“She’s the commander, yes,” Indra interrupts. “She is also acting like a child.”_

_“And don’t you think I can see that?” Anya snaps back. “The commander is a child. Fine. She still doesn’t take orders from me.”_

_“And if she doesn’t shape up, soon_ no one _will be taking orders from her. Certainly, this is clear to you, isn’t it?”_

Clear as day, _Anya wants to say. The thing about Indra is that she is always right, no matter how hard Anya refuses to see it. “It is,” says Anya, sighing. “Without a Vine holding this together, it all falls apart.”_

_“Lexa has to hold,” says Indra grimly. “We must do whatever it takes.”_

_*_

_The next time Anya sees Lexa, it’s in one of Costia’s hotels. Anya is on post-meeting drinks with a couple of sponsors when she notices Lexa’s familiar frame walking toward the restrooms, and when she scans the area she finds Costia at a table in the far corner, talking with a friend._

_Anya doesn’t know when exactly she started having a bad feeling about this woman, but then again, must anyone talk to anyone with her hand so high up said friend’s thigh? Anya shakes her head as she drains her glass._ Perhaps not. Perhaps never.

_When Anya looks again, Lexa still hasn’t returned and Costia has started kissing a completely different girl._

This isn’t even my concern, _Anya thinks. She knows she has to look away, but she can’t; her eyes are glued to it, the way people often watch in rapt attention as tragedies unfold on primetime news._ Fuck me and my attachment to trainwrecks. _After a while, Costia breaks the kiss, giggling as she draws back, and this is how Lexa returns to the scene, apparently oblivious to developments from ten seconds prior as she slips her hand around Costia’s shoulder and plants a kiss just below her ear._

This is ridiculous. _Anya thinks about approaching; thinks about pulling Lexa out of here and telling her._ Yeah, that would certainly be mature. _She takes a final glance at her companions before excusing herself for the night._

_“Leaving so soon?” Anya is already at the door when a hand wraps lightly around her arm._ Costia.

_“Miss Gold,” Anya turns to her, nodding in acknowledgement. “Great bar.”_

_“You should have told me you were having guests,” she says. “I don’t think Lexa has seen you.”_

_Anya looks past Costia’s shoulder to look for Lexa, still seated at the same table, talking closely with a couple of other girls. Anya looks away, clearing her throat. “I believe I’ve seen enough,” she just says. “I have an early day tomorrow, so. If you would excuse me.”_

_Costia laughs, leaning in to kiss Anya’s cheek. “As you wish,” she says against Anya’s ear. “I’d send Lexa your regards?”_

_“Whatever you want,” Anya just says, one hand braced against the door. “She’s all yours.”_

_*_

_Lexa misses two more meetings, including an important shareholders’ report._

_Anya does not wait for the day to end before going._

_*_

_Anya lets herself into Lexa’s apartment by using her spare keys. The apartment is dark, but the stench of cigarettes is so strong, she figures there’s probably one still lit, somewhere. True enough, when Anya heads to the living room, she sees an ashtray with a newly lit cigarette resting in it, lipstick on the filter._

Costia. _Anya looks around at the mess of the living room, casually picking up the cigarette off the ashtray and taking a long, slow drag._

_“So much for nagging me about not smoking on the couch.”_

_Anya turns her head, blowing smoke to the side. Lexa leans in on both elbows upon the back of the chair across her, cigarette between her fingers as well, and Anya tries to ignore the way the ash falls on the leather surface of the couch. “A pity to let a perfectly untouched cigarette go to waste,” Anya shrugs._ Might as well. _“You missed the shareholders’ meeting today.”_

_Lexa looks down, sighing as she takes a drag. “Sorry,” she says, though there is nothing sincere in her tone. “I forgot.”_

_“You forgot,” Anya repeats, deadpan. “In what universe do you suppose that is acceptable?”_

_“I said I was sorry.”_

_“The board has had enough of your apologies,” says Anya. “The ice is very thin, Lexa. I hope you realize--”_

_“Then let me fucking fall through it,” Lexa interrupts, climbing over the back of the chair to crush her cigarette against the ashtray. Closer like this, Anya manages to catch a whiff of her – she’d also been drinking. “Leave me alone.”_

_“I believe that’s not an option.”_

_“How is_ handing my life back to me _not an option?”_

_Anya shakes her head, taking a final hit before snuffing her cigarette out in kind. The smoke hangs low between them; it makes her eyes water, a little. “Without a Vine on top, the company would fall apart,” says Anya. “_ Your _father’s legacy. Which he had planned to hand down to you all along.”_

_Lexa laughs to herself lightly. “Guess he didn’t foresee I’d turn out this way.”_

_“Don’t say that.”_

_“It’s true. I don’t have what it takes—”_

_“We are not having this conversation,” says Anya firmly, shutting it down. “You were born into this, Lexa. I am not listening to your nonsense, nor am I letting you listen to your own nonsense. Is this clear?”_

_Lexa groans, sinking back into her chair, eyes to the ceiling. “What do you want from me?”_

_“I don’t know how Costia Gold is changing you, or why this change is happening, but I’m pretty sure anything that keeps you from your work responsibilities—”_

_“Oh Anya,” Lexa cuts in again, letting loose a laugh even. “Is that what this is about?” She reaches over to slide a new cigarette out, crossing her legs as she lights it. “Is it—are you_ jealous? _”_

_“Jealous?” Anya raises her brow before letting out a laugh of her own—this sharp, bitter-sounding bark. “Don’t turn this around on me.”_

_“It was you, and then it wasn’t – how does that feel?”_

_“It doesn’t feel like anything,” says Anya, and Lexa looks away, like she’s trying to hide the split-second of disappointment that Anya manages to catch anyhow. “Focus, Lexa. This isn’t about—”_ Us, _Anya almost says, catching herself just in time. “This is about the company._ Your _legacy. How do you want to be remembered?”_

_Lexa flinches at that, and when she moves to stub out her half-done cig, Anya reaches in in kind and wraps a hand around Lexa’s wrist._

_“Lexa.”_

_Lexa takes a moment, stilling right within Anya’s grasp before pulling away, getting up from where she’s seated to open a window._ Finally, _Anya thinks._ Some air.

_“When’s the next meeting?” Lexa asks finally, looking out._

_“In three days.”_

_Lexa breathes in and rolls her shoulders, like she’s shaking the rest of the day out. “All right,” she says._

_“All right?”_

_“All right,” she repeats softly. “I’ll see you in three days.”_

Lexa still has Bellamy’s guitar in her hand when the group starts tumbling down from the studio; Clarke emerges first, and Anya pushes off of Lexa’s shoulder, rearranging herself to make space for Clarke, whose lopsided smirk is definitely still intoxicated.

“Babe,” Clarke slurs, crawling onto the stage and into the space between Lexa and Anya, her skin all too warm from far too many margaritas. “You’re _playing._ ”

Lexa blinks blearily at her, and for a moment Anya sees Lexa young again – _drunk_ again. Her guard down. Anya watches as Lexa extends one arm, inviting Clarke to snuggle closer.

“Yeah, kind of?” says Lexa, smiling. “You guys done?”

“I’m not sure,” says Clarke, yawning into Lexa’s shoulder. “Are you and Anya bored?”

“I’m fine,” Anya says, leaning her head back against the wall behind her. “No sleep tonight, it seems.”

Lexa looks over at her, catching her eye over Clarke’s head. “It takes as long as it takes,” she says, and Clarke hums happily, tucking her face into the crook of Lexa’s neck.

Anya looks on a bit longer, before feeling like she’s intruding into something frightfully… _intimate._ Like she were not supposed to see any of this – hear _any_ of this. She looks away, breaking eye contact, just as Raven and Octavia re-enter the bar, wrapped around each other as they walk.

When she catches Raven’s eye, Anya knows exactly just how much her wife has had to drink. _This adorable intoxicated idiot,_ Anya thinks fondly as Raven and Octavia both head for her, flanking her.

“Did you miss me?” Raven whispers hotly into Anya’s ear, and _Jesus,_ if this isn’t the most inconvenient time to suddenly feel all of these things at once.

Anya grins as she turns toward her to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t start honey,” she says in faux warning, half-meaning it anyway. “Not here.” When Raven laughs, she feels her stomach plummet at the sound. _This is why I’m in love with you,_ Anya thinks, and, for the first time that night, she feels her mind _swimming_.

“Oh?” Raven’s voice is hoarse. _Challenging._ “Why not?” she asks, and Anya draws in a breath as she feels Raven’s hand settle upon her stomach, heavy and warm through the fabric of her top. “We’re in the company of friends.”

“ _Precisely_ ,” Anya says, feeling Octavia moving from her other side in kind, arm brushing against hers as she reaches over to swat at Raven’s hand playfully. “See? Octavia disapproves.”

“Octavia’s just _jealous,_ ” says Raven, and Octavia laughs, tightening her grip around Raven’s wrist, the both of them now settling upon Anya belly.

_Well, shit._ Truth be told, after all these years, Octavia has remained a mystery to Anya; some inaccessible portion of Raven that she has simply chosen to leave alone in respect. _God knows I’d want to keep something to myself._

“Fuck off, Reyes,” drawls Octavia, pressing against Anya closer, and Anya lifts her arm to accommodate her, settling her hand over Octavia’s shoulder tentatively.

Raven glances over at Anya’s hand before lifting her brow slightly – like she were actually _surprised_ at Anya’s gesture. _What is this space?_ “You have something to say?” asks Anya, holding Raven’s eye. There’s _that_ glint again, and it makes Anya’s stomach flutter. Raven claws playfully at her, nails scratching through her clothes.

Raven shifts her gaze, eyeing Octavia. “What about you, O? Ready to go?”

Octavia laughs, settling into Anya’s hold, and Anya feels _everything_ get warm all at once. Beside them, she can sense Lexa and Clarke making out lazily, this slow-moving presence – _close_ but not enough. _Shit._

Anya brushes against Raven’s jaw with her thumb and instinctively Raven turns back to her, leaning in for a kiss, hungry and open-mouthed, and _fuck,_ Anya thinks, because Octavia is probably _watching,_ and when Raven slides her tongue in, Anya goes _oh, if this isn’t all just ruinous._

_Breathe._ Raven tastes bitter and citrusy all at once, and somewhere she hears someone _whimper,_ and _Jesus,_ Anya thinks, _That isn’t Raven,_ because Raven sounds _different_ , and right now, Anya knows just what sound she is making.

There’s a small sigh, then a soft _Clarke, fuck,_ urgent and needy over the rustling of clothes.  _Goddamnit._ Anya’s mind is heavy with whiskey and _wanting_ and she holds her breath throughout.

_This is how it feels like to drown._

It takes a century or a millisecond; Raven’s already tugging at Anya’s jeans when the sound of the door shutting jolts them all back. Raven pulls away and Anya’s eyes shoot open, immediately meeting Lexa’s half-lidded ones over Raven and Clarke’s shoulders. _Shit._ Anya watches as Lexa’s eyes widen upon realizing she’s staring right back, lips parted and kiss-swollen.

“ _Ladies._ ” Bellamy clears his throat. “Sorry about the door, but.”

Clarke laughs first, the hoarse sound fully shattering the moment. “Sorry, Bell.”

When Anya turns her head finally, she sees Bellamy with his eyes on the floor and his hands in his pockets. Beside her, Raven starts laughing, shoulders shaking. “ _Raven,_ ” Anya chides her, tugging at her earlobe playfully.

“ _What_?”

“Time to go,” Lexa chimes in, boots scraping against the stage floor as she pushes herself to her feet, picking up Clarke after her.

“Easy for you to say,” says Bellamy, laughing lightly. “You _live_ here.”

“Not my fault I’m dating the _owner_ of the establishment,” Lexa shoots back, an easy drowsy smile on her face. Bellamy just shakes his head and laughs harder, glancing over at Octavia.

“Ready to go home, O?” he asks.

Octavia lets out a small grunt, as Anya stands in kind, lifting her and Raven to their feet as well. They sway uncertainly, bodies falling against Anya’s in the middle, their warm hands braced against Anya’s hips. The word in Anya’s head is _scald._

“Good birthday?” asks Raven, stepping down from the stage first and extending a hand toward Octavia, holding her as she negotiates the stage steps herself, knees drunk and shaky. Anya walks after them, hands stretched out and ready, but not quite touching.

When she gets to Raven, Octavia giggles. “I think Bellamy will win this year,” she just says, planting a sloppy kiss to Raven’s cheek before turning to Anya and stepping closer. “Thank you for bringing Raven over,” she says, trying to be solemn, though the intoxicated blush on her face makes it difficult for Anya to take her too seriously. Anya tries to tame her smile when Octavia adds, “I’m trying to be serious here,” schooling the grin on her face in kind.

“Raven would have gone anyway for you,” Anya says. “With or without me.”

“You’re here though,” answers Octavia, sounding somewhat sober. _Damn, now_ I’m _drunk,_ Anya thinks dimly. “In case it needs saying, that kind of matters.”

Anya blinks at her. _No, Octavia is definitely still drunk,_ she thinks, and definitely so is she, the words swimming in her head just beyond her proper grasp.

She’s about to open her mouth to say something when she hears Clarke and Lexa tumbling down the stage after her noisily. “So am I the only one here who _isn’t_ into Anya?” asks Clarke.

Anya turns her head at that, catching Lexa’s eye briefly and watching amusedly the play of alarm and fondness there. Then, turning to Clarke: “A pity that then,” she says, teasing. “I like you the most.”

“I don’t know if I should be offended or turned on,” Raven chimes in, hooking a finger into Anya’s belt loop and tugging.

“ _Ladies,”_ Bellamy interrupts, clearing his throat again. _Oh. You’re still here._ “Get a room. Separately or all together, I don’t even know anymore at this point.”

“ _Best_ birthday, definitely,” Octavia just says, walking to him, her drunk laughter echoing in the small hall.

*

When Anya wakes, there’s a throb in her head and she’s in an unfamiliar bed, with Raven in her hold, curled into her. _Shit._ Anya stretches carefully, mindful of the _other_ weight resting behind her. _The fuck happened last night?_ She’s still in last night’s clothes; when she blinks and looks around, she finds herself surrounded by frames.

_We’re in Clarke’s room?_

“Mhmm.” Raven stirs awake, gradually, and only then does Anya realize that she has spoken out loud. “Don’t shift to your back – you’d crush Octavia.”

“ _This_ is Octavia?” Anya murmurs into Raven’s hair, gesturing behind her.

“Yep.”

“You girls totally had your way with me last night, did you not?” Anya teases, and Raven lifts her chin to kiss her.

“You were totally useless, by the way.”

“Judging by the way I remember next to nothing, I must have been.”

Behind her, Octavia starts stretching in kind, groaning as she comes to. “Jesus _fuck,_ ” she moans into Anya’s back. “I could feel every drop of alcohol from last night coursing through my _veins._ ”

Raven reaches past Anya’s waist, presumably to touch Octavia. “You all right?”

“I need coffee in my bloodstream.”

“Where’s Clarke?” asks Anya.

“Mat on the floor,” says Raven automatically.

“You’ve done this before.”

“You can say we’re _university-trained_ ,” Raven says, and Octavia lets out a laugh. “Suppose Lexa _truly_ loves her – at least, enough to join her on the floor.”

“We’re right here, and we’re _awake,_ Raven.” It’s Clarke, followed by a sleepy-sounding chuckle, which Anya takes a moment to place. _Lexa._ Anya burrows her face into Raven’s neck further, if only to block out the sound. “Also: We’re trying to be good _hosts._ ”

“Thank you, Clarke,” Anya says, lifting her head temporarily off Raven’s skin. “Though really – there’s space for you here beside Raven--”

“Shut up, Ahn,” Lexa chimes in, voice still thick with sleep, and Anya feels her gut plummet at how _familiar_ that sounds – like Lexa just isn’t _awake_ enough to remember just how much she’s supposed to be still upset at her, at this point. 

“Delicious ridiculous flirting aside,” says Octavia, and Anya can feel the bed shift as Octavia pushes herself off the bed slowly. “I _really_ need my caffeine.”

“I’m with Octavia,” Raven says, disentangling herself from Anya’s limbs as she slips out of bed after a quick kiss to Anya’s forehead. And then, upon joining Octavia by the door, Raven looks over her shoulder: “Clarke?”

Clarke gets up, pushing herself to her feet with a groan. “Yeah -- Bellamy’s turn to make breakfast, isn’t it?” And then, to Lexa: “Move to the bed, babe – your back must be _shot_.”

Anya holds her breath at the endearment. _Babe._ She’s still in the middle of wondering whether Lexa would _actually_ move, only to feel herself freezing at the way the bed dips when Lexa does climb on with a soft groan. “I could—” Anya begins, swinging her legs over the side and preparing to slip out with the others, her swimming eyesight be damned.

“Take your time, Anya,” says Clarke. “Breakfast would probably take a while – I mean, Bellamy always does. And you look like you could use ten more minutes of sleep yourself.”

Truth be told, throb in her head also considered, Anya kind of does. “Thanks Clarke,” she says, sinking back into the pillows just as Lexa falls right beside her, face down.

Anya listens for the sound of the door closing before speaking. “Your back acting up?” she asks softly.

Lexa groans. “If you’re going to take this as an opportunity to rib me about my age—”

“I didn’t even think of it that way, but since you mentioned it.” Anya laughs, hand resting upon the space on the bed beside Lexa’s hip. “But seriously.”

“It’s going to be fine. Just – the floor was hard.”

“I’m sorry we hijacked your bed.”

Lexa laughs, the sound muffled by her pillow. “No, that’s not – Clarke and I insisted. It was late, and you were… _unfit_ to travel.”

Anya groans. _Our weight and a half in alcohol._ “Unfit is a good assessment. I can’t even remember how we got here.”

Lexa shifts slowly to her side, facing Anya, arm pillowed under her head. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Was that what you were doing when you were not answering my calls? Training to be a _lightweight_?”

Anya breathes in, closing her eyes and marveling at how Lexa seems to be managing this sort of humor _now_ about an in-between that she’d supposedly been so upset about. “Now’s a good time to inject an age-related joke, Lex,” she says.

“You’d rather admit to getting old than being a lightweight. Who even are you?”

Anya smiles. “Clearly, I have changed,” she just says. “And apparently, so have you.”

“Wrong,” Lexa says softly, the bed shifting after a moment’s silence. It prompts Anya to open her eyes, and when she does she sees Lexa looking at the ceiling. It reminds her of some random night spent on the yacht, trying to stare through a heavily clouded night sky, seeking stars and failing.

“Wrong?” Anya just says back.

“Seeing how I managed to hold onto my anger for less than forty-eight hours, just being in your immediate vicinity—suppose there are things that never change.”

“Ah.” Anya stares at the ceiling in kind. She doesn’t know what quite to say to this, so she just reaches out and tentatively touches Lexa’s wrist, her fingertips light on the bone. _What else is there to say, now that the fight is done?_

Lexa doesn’t move away. “You’re—you’re my _harbor_ , Ahn. Don’t… _unmoor_ me like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Anya offers.

“And I meant it when I said—when I said I’m not out to sabotage your marriage, I really did—”

“I really wasn’t worried about you. You know this—”

“Then let’s proceed on your terms.”

That jolts Anya fully awake, the sunlight filtering through Clarke’s window suddenly too bright. “What are you talking about?”

“Your terms,” says Lexa, straining to keep her voice level. “I’ll take them. Whatever they may be.”

“Lexa—”

“If I have to re-hire you as a consultant or whatever, I would.”

Anya has to laugh at how _typical Lexa_ that proposal just is, her chest feeling too crowded with the sudden influx of _feelings._ “You can’t just keep on hiring people you want to constantly hang out with.”

“Yes, I can.”

Anya sighs, sitting up, back against Clarke’s headboard. _Clarke,_ Anya thinks, remembering how _that_ began with a proposal and a contract. “Listen, Lex – you do know that’s _not_ why people stay, right?” Lexa keeps still, hands clasped on her stomach, eyes trained straight ahead, like she were trying to burn a hole through the roof. “We’re not just _tethered_ by mere contracts. We’re _better_ than that.”

“Are we now?”

Anya clenches her jaw. _Are they? Is this going to make things better?_ “I don’t know what you want from me,” she says carefully, watching as Lexa pushes herself up from the bed in kind, sitting right beside her. Anya lets her eyes settle on Lexa’s hands, cupped over her raised knees.

“Show me, then,” says Lexa, eyes fixed on one of Clarke’s paintings hanging on the opposite wall – it’s of a lake and the woods surrounding it, all very green and calm, and Anya almost hears the sounds of the imagined woods, threading into Lexa’s steady voice. “Show me how we could be _better_.”

_How do you need me?_ Anya almost says, but the words simple stay lodged in her throat, unable to get out. “How?” she manages, much later.

When Lexa shrugs, their shoulders touch, and they end up laughing together – softly. Helplessly.

Anya wants to say more when a loud knock interrupts them. “Breakfast?” It’s Bellamy, peeking into the door, and Lexa slips out of her side of the bed, stretching her arms.

“We’ll follow shortly,” she tells him, and Bellamy leaves the door ajar. Anya watches from the bed as Lexa runs her hands through her hair and puts it up messily, like Anya’s never seen before. “So,” says Lexa quietly, turning to Anya.

“So,” Anya hums, standing in kind, and for a while they’re just there -- holding each other’s eyes from across the room, an empty bed between.

“Your terms,” Lexa just says again, walking out first.

*

Breakfast is pleasant. The boys set up a big table right in the middle of the dance floor and sunshine pours in from the wide open windows. Anya sees Raven first, seated between Lincoln and an empty seat, and she lights up as she meets Anya’s eyes. The air smells like vanilla and pancakes and coffee.

“This seat taken?” Anya leans in to kiss Raven, and already her lips taste like strawberry jam. Raven shakes her head and Anya slides into the chair, picking up a fork, ready to dig in.

When she looks across the table, she sees Lexa holding the plate of pancakes aloft in offering. There’s something about the light in here at this hour that touches Lexa’s face so… _pristinely._ Like her face has just been washed _clean_ and Anya’s seeing her for the very first time, unmarked and unburdened. She grins as she tells Anya: “Take it – the plate is heavier than it looks.” Anya has to blink before realizing she’s been spoken to.

_What a strange place this is,_ Anya just thinks, taking the plate off Lexa’s hand finally. _Seeing this place at this hour is so new._ Beside Lexa, Clarke is laughing at something Bellamy’s saying, and right then, Octavia slips into the empty seat on Anya’s other side, nudging a fresh mug of coffee toward her.

“You look like you need this,” Octavia whispers, and in that brief moment that Anya catches Octavia’s eye, she feels something odd pass between them – some sort of understanding that strikes Anya as new and unexpected, but not altogether unwelcome.

Octavia touches Anya’s arm as Anya takes the coffee. “Thanks,” Anya mutters into the mug, smiling at Octavia over the rim. When she turns back to Raven, she overhears her talking with Lincoln about his metal sculptures in the pipeline, about another exhibit, about Clarke’s new murals – at which point Clarke chimes in, commenting about how she has barely started and how she probably won’t make it in time for Lincoln’s deadline.

“But why?” It’s Lexa asking now, tone light and casual. _Easy._ She’s got a hand on Clarke’s on the table, thumb rubbing over Clarke’s knuckles. “You’ve been working so hard.”

Bellamy coughs at that, and Clarke, picking up on the innuendo, balls up a napkin and tosses it at him. “Smartass,” she says, laughing as the balled up tissue hits Bellamy on the forehead. When Lincoln starts speaking, the table erupts full-on, voices upon voices, words tossed in the air – art, and color, and _life._

Anya scans the room -- the faces of all these people, loved and known.

When she gets to Lexa, she’s the only one who’s looking right back.


	6. rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, if you’re not on this ship/raft/yacht – this is going to be upsetting. This serves as your warning.   
> Otherwise: Please have my eternal thanks, if you’re here for the pain, just as I am.  
> We have only the epilogue left, which will be the setup for a /bigger/ attempt at this pairing. /Attempt/, of course, being the operative word. Thank you so much for joining me on this journey. It has been a pleasure.

 

 

_Costia disappears._

_Lexa doesn’t come to Anya to seek comfort so much as to seek an explanation – like Anya has some hold on the Golds and their executives._

_“Where is she?”_

_Anya looks up from the file in her hand, watching perplexed as Lexa storms into her office. “Slow down. Who are we looking for?”_

_“Costia.”_

_“Do I look like I’m Costia’s keeper?” It comes out unintentionally bitter, and Anya engages Lexa in a brief stare down when she glares back at her in response._ Shit. She really is upset. _Rolling her eyes, Anya relents, motioning to the chair across her. “Fine. Sit.”_

_Lexa ignores the chair, perching herself instead upon Anya’s desk. “She wasn’t in our last alignment meeting for next month’s event.”_

_Anya shakes her head, remembering her own bewilderment upon being introduced to a_ new _project manager more than halfway into planning. “The Golds sent a different rep, yes.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I didn’t think to demand to ask,” says Anya. “Their end of the deal is pretty much done. They didn’t need someone as high up as Costia to be there.” And then, off Lexa’s silence: “You really don’t know where she is.” Not a question but a statement. Lexa lifts one of the folders off Anya’s table and randomly leafs through it, like she’s trying to distract herself from Anya’s observation._

_“_ Alexandra. _”_

_Lexa flips her folder shut at that. “What?” she snaps, getting off the table and sliding into the chair, eyes trained straight ahead at the shelves lining Anya’s office. “I asked a question and I still don’t have an answer.”_

_“I’m not the one who’s been sleeping with her.”_

_Lexa turns her head to glare at her sharply. “Can you spare me this bitterness, Anya?”_

_Anya rolls her eyes. She knows what Lexa is doing and she sees right through it. “Why?” she asks coolly instead._

_“Why? Because it helps nothing, that’s why.”_

_Anya laughs, signing the last page of the document in her hands before stowing the folder away. “No, I meant – why are you even looking for her?”_

_“Because she—” Lexa cuts herself off with a shake of her head, like she’s entirely unsatisfied with the words that she had in mind. “We haven’t been seeing each other. She hasn’t been taking my calls.”_

_“What?” Anya furrows her brows, confused. “And since when—”_

_“It doesn’t matter,” Lexa interrupts, standing up. “Sorry for barging in on you like this. I have to go.”_

_“Lex—”_

_Lexa stops by the door, a hand on the knob and the other in her pocket. “Sorry,” she just says again before going out._

_Anya watches as the door shuts, wondering what that conversation was really about._

_*_

_Anya pieces their story together the only way she’s known – through the grapevine. It’s not like Lexa and Costia have been discreet about their exploits anyway; if anything, Costia seems to revel in it, relishing the stolen photos and the rumor mill; the fancy parties and the blind items in the papers._

_The Board may not like it, but the numbers don’t lie – it’s a beneficial partnership, where the bottom-line is concerned._

_Anya doesn’t say a word, but she does keep tabs – she has Gustus on the phone every so often, reporting about Lexa’s whereabouts, or in which of Costia’s hotels Lexa is spending the night._

She’s the head of the company, _is how Anya justifies this to herself._ Someone should at least know if she’s safe.

_Anya finds it curious, the way Costia never seems to stay in Lexa’s apartment, or even go near the yacht._ Is Lexa compartmentalizing? _Anya finds herself asking at one point, browsing through clippings of gossip pages and leafing through paparazzi photos of Lexa and Costia -- leaving bars, climbing onto SUVs, having a drink too many._

_Making out backstage during one of Costia’s events. Something seizes inside Anya’s chest at that; she shakes her head upon seeing_ , _trying to convince herself that the heavy feeling is mostly due to her apprehensions about the Board’s reaction in the morning._ What am I going to do with you?

_At the end of the pile is a photo of them laughing so openly, it_ hurt _to look at – they were holding their margaritas aloft, that distinct buzzed blush on their faces. Lexa has an arm wrapped around Costia, holding her close; it seems like they have been caught and photographed while dancing._

_Anya tries not to think about it, not too much._

_(_ Well, at least our queens look good together, _Anya thinks idly, but the laugh gets stuck in her throat.)_

_*_

_And then suddenly – radio silence._

_“What do you mean, she’s in her apartment?”_

_Gustus grunts. “She hasn’t left for the night, Miss Anya. That’s all I know.”_

_“That’s strange,” Anya just says._ Friday’s usually Costia night, _she almost continues, but she lets the words stay on her tongue._

_“Would you like me to check in on her?”_

_“That’s going to be even stranger,” Anya deadpans and Gustus just laughs. Briefly, Anya considers just checking in herself – perhaps dropping by unannounced, if only to make sure Lexa has had dinner – only to backtrack in her head._ What am I even thinking? _“Let’s leave her alone.”_

_“As you wish.”_

_Somewhere in the back of her head, Anya is dimly aware of what this could be: That familiar post-Alexander stretch again, and she feels herself get sick in the stomach._ We don’t know that, _she tries to assure herself._ Maybe she has gotten better at this. _And then:_ For now, we wait. _Anya shakes it out of her shoulders, remembering her phone.  “Good night, Gustus.”_

_That night, Anya does not sleep; spends it instead staring at her phone, waiting._

_*_

_Anya does not miss the blind items, not really, but the photos were their own sort of strange pleasure; there was actually a time they were the only way she saw Lexa even, scarce as she has been since Costia._

And now, even that is gone. _And then:_ What am I even thinking? _Anya busies herself with Lexa’s overlooked administrative tasks instead, filling the hours with paperwork._ It’s for the best

_She faces the Board in Lexa’s stead so many times she loses count; at some point, it feels like she’s CEO again, and Lexa’s just somewhere, trying to regain her footing._ Twenty-two and falling apart. _There’s a sort of alarm as she thinks about that part of Lexa’s life – how brittle she had seemed; how easily broken. She thinks about Lexa now; asks herself,_ Is this how loss really looks like?

_That night, she tries calling Lexa, who keeps dropping it anyhow. Frustrated, Anya finds herself driving up to the yacht; to her surprise, she finds Gustus already parked right on the pier._

_“You were supposed to call me.”_

_Gustus shrugs. “I was. Your phone was busy.”_

God damn it. _Anya rubs at the space between her brows, breathing in. “How long has she been in there?”_

_“No longer than an hour,” says Gustus._

_“Has she been drinking all this while?”_

_“She had been drinking when she asked to be driven here.”_

This fucker. _Anya pockets her phone and keys, entering the yacht as quietly as she could. While she has come here many times, this is actually the first time that she has managed to catch Lexa in here as well._

_Anya checks the captain’s cabin first and finds it empty._ She’s never not in here, _Anya thinks, slightly thrown. When she moves to search the rest of the yacht, she finds Lexa out on the deck, sitting by the empty pool._ Of course. _Anya clears her throat so as not to startle her; judging by the beer cans lined up beside her, she’s had quite a night._

_“What, did you run out of whiskey?” Anya asks, approaching slowly._

_Lexa looks over her shoulder, if only to acknowledge Anya’s presence. “I wanted to draw this night out,” she just says, tone level. “What are you doing here?”_

_“I could ask you the same thing.”_

_“I own this yacht.”_

_Anya lets out a little laugh as she sits beside Lexa, who only looks at her for a moment before handing her a fresh can. Anya takes it; she might as well. “No, really,” says Anya, tone softening. “_ Why _are you here, Lex?”_

_Lexa sighs, reaching into her shirt’s breast pocket. Anya watches curiously as Lexa unfolds the piece of paper she slides out – it’s a torn-up page from a magazine, its creases looking so worn from too much folding and refolding; like Lexa had taken it out and put it away all too often for review. She hands it to Anya without looking, and Anya tries not to stare at the slight tremble in her hands._

_Anya tries to read in the dim light of the yacht deck._ Shit. _“So that’s where she’s gone, huh?”_

_Lexa laughs, though the sound she lets out barely resembles one. “Looks like closing deals with us has taken her places.”_

_“And this is how she thanks you,” Anya deadpans, squinting at the paper in her hand, able to make out only a few words:_ Costia, _then_ Vine Media, _then_ success. _There’s a large photograph of her smiling in front of a hotel that Anya’s never seen; she is standing barefoot in the sand, and Anya figures she must have been reassigned elsewhere out of the city._

_She’s smiling so widely that Anya has to wonder if Lexa feels just as ruined, watching a person smile about something else entirely._

It was you, and now, it isn’t. _Anya closes her eyes as she pops her beer open, banishing that thought._

_“You all right?” asks Anya, taking a sip, trying to be casual._

_“Not yet,” Lexa sighs, after a while. Anya lets her stare fall on Lexa’s hands, cupped around her beer._ How small this heart must be in my hands. _“But I will be; don’t worry too much about me, Ahn.”_

Oh. _Anya sets her beer down, if only to fold the magazine page back up carefully, trying to retrace its heaviest creases, before reaching over to tuck it back into Lexa’s breast pocket, fingers brushing against the fabric slowly. “That’s out of your hands,” she just says, and Lexa reaches up in kind to hold Anya’s hand close to her chest._

_“Is that—is that how it is?” Lexa asks, the slight slur finally there in her tone. Anya stills in her grip; her hand is cold from the beer she’s just held. “That people should leave all the time?”_

_“Lexa.” Anya spreads her hand out carefully, right above Lexa’s heart, brushing her thumb lightly against her shirt – marking the spot with small, soothing circles; trying to feel Lexa’s heartbeat through it._

_“That people should leave without warning, without—”_

_“_ Lexa. _” Anya fists her hand around the lapel and tugs Lexa closer. “Shut up.” It comes out harshly, and for a moment Lexa struggles in her hold, grip tightening around Anya’s wrist in kind; her other hand clawing against Anya’s shirt, her fingernails catching in the fabric. Lexa lets out a gasp – it sounds curiously like a sob, and when Anya moves to touch Lexa’s face, her hand comes away wet._

_“Hey,” Anya tries again, softer now._ What am I going to do with you? _“Come here.”_

_Lexa takes a moment before giving in, resting her forehead against Anya’s shoulder finally and sinking into her, boneless. Anya just lets her, loosening her grip around Lexa’s shirt and just_ holding, _and God, if this isn’t the strangest of nights._

_“This isn’t me,” Lexa says, after a while. “Though I think you already know this.”_

_“Know what?”_

_“That I’m not myself tonight.”_

But what if—all this while, what if? _Anya blinks, pushing at Lexa lightly and pressing a palm against Lexa’s cheek. “Neither am I,” she says softly, in that moment simply feeling just as lost._

_The kiss is all ache; it has none of their first time’s desperate, whiskey-wrapped haze, but this night is too warm and it is dizzying just the same, the air sticky against their skin. Anya comes up for breath first; the air is salt-stained. From afar, Anya can hear the slow rumble of thunder._

_“It looks like rain,” says Anya. Lexa opens her eyes slowly; like she’s afraid to wake from a dream. “I should go.”_

_Lexa swallows hard. “Why?”_

_“You know why.” Anya looks away, pushing herself up to her feet, wiping her palms against her jeans. When she stares at her hands, she is trembling in a way she doesn’t want to recognize._

_Anya looks up as a brief flash of lightning illuminates the deck. In that brief moment, she sees Lexa, looking up in kind. “Okay,” Lexa just says in a quiet voice, and when she meets Anya’s eyes in the half-dark, Anya just_ knows _._

If I don’t leave now.

_Anya gets to her car soon enough; she just heads for the exit and does not look back. She takes a quick scan of the area to look for Gustus; when she does not see him, she simply assumes he’s back in Lexa’s car, presumably napping. Thunder rumbles closer, and Anya gets in, fumbling with her keys._

_Once inside, Anya can’t help the shaky breath she lets out._ Godfuckingdamnit. _She slams her fists against the steering wheel in frustration, ultimately unable to ignore that slight tingle that the kiss had left on her lips._

If I don’t leave now.

_The car takes forever to start. When it finally does, Anya spies movement on the yacht – it’s Lexa, stepping out, a slight wobble on her knees._ Wake up, Gustus, _Anya thinks, jaw clenched. She grips her steering wheel as she watches Lexa walk over to Gustus’ door, knocking at his window with both palms open._

_Gustus opens his door slightly, only to have Lexa push back against it, shaking her head._ What the fuck is she doing? _Anya almost gets out of her car, but then she sees Lexa now walking toward her, moving as fast as her intoxicated state allows._

Goddamnit, Lexa. _Anya holds her breath as Lexa opens the passenger side door and slides in, her face glistening with raindrops._

_“It’s raining,” says Lexa, turning to her. And then, dropping her eyes: “Take me home.”_

Home. _Anya feels herself exhale slowly. “All right,” she just says, driving on._

_*_

_(“Yours or—”_

_“Yours,” Lexa says, leaning her forehead against the window._

_The rest of the ride is quiet.)_

_*_

_It doesn’t get better -- or at least, not immediately, but Lexa does go back to the office, and at least on that front things seem fine. The Board takes her presence as that moment’s much-needed reassurance – a gesture reaffirming Lexa’s commitment to the company, so to speak. Of everyone, Anya knows Indra is most pleased._

_Out of the board room though, Lexa spends most of her days sitting in Anya’s office, preferring to do her paperwork there. “They’re on your table anyway,” she reasons, though Anya hears the_ I don’t want to be alone _that goes unsaid, anyhow. On these afternoons, Anya finds herself watching Lexa, acutely aware of all her broken spaces, and she can’t help but think back to_ that night _in Lexa’s kitchen._

Had I said yes, would this have gone this way? _she wonders. Some days, Lexa gets this blank look on her face, and all too often, her casual questions are just rearrangements of,_ Am I the sort of girl people leave?

_“If it were you,” Lexa asks once. “How would you have left?”_

_Anya blinks, feeling her throat go dry._ Where is this coming from? _She studies Lexa’s face for any indication that she’s joking; she isn’t. “You do know I would never leave you, right?”_

_When Lexa shifts her eyes, there’s a small moment of uncertainty there that tugs at Anya, somewhat. “What makes you so sure?”_

_Anya forces out a laugh and tries for_ lightness _. “Your father will literally get up from his grave and make sure I don’t.”_

_Lexa catches on, but her laugh is brief. “So if it weren’t for my father.”_

_Anya gives Lexa a long, stern look. “Lexa.”_

_“I’m just asking.”_

_Anya shrugs, going around her table to sit in the chair across Lexa, so close that their knees touch. “Look at me,” she begins, clearing her throat. Seated this close, she can feel how_ warm _Lexa is through her jeans._ What am I even doing? _She braces both hands against Lexa’s knee and grips tighter when Lexa’s eyes look up to catch hers._

_“I am,” Lexa whispers finally, folder forgotten in her hand. In this light, Lexa’s eyes are gray, like the sea under a storm._

_Anya hesitates for a moment._ This small heart in my hand. _When she speaks finally, it’s with the words: “You and me.” Her own heart in her throat. “This could be.”_

_A long stunned quiet moment follows– it goes on for so long that Anya actually manages to regret every single thing she’s said since the yacht, until Lexa finally goes: “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” She doesn’t look at Anya, preferring instead to keep her eyes on the floor, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt._

_The silence elsewhere in the room is deafening; the quiet space filling with nothing but the thunderous beating inside their chests._

_“I’ll make this offer only once,” says Anya, after a while._

_Lexa closes her eyes, breathing in; stays quiet until it’s almost like she’s fallen asleep. And then, after a while: “My answer is no.”_

_“What?” Anya blinks. Not that she hasn’t seen this coming._ Oh, what a mess. _She clears her throat and tries to keep breathing, eyes fixed on where her hand is upon Lexa’s knee._

_“The answer is no,” Lexa repeats, voice clearer now. “This is_ not _how I’ll lose you.”_

_Before Anya can say anything in response, Lexa gets up, closing the folder in her hand and gently laying it down on Anya’s table before turning around and making for the door._

_Anya says nothing, opting instead to watch her walk away. When she closes her eyes, she waits for the sound of the door closing after her._

_All that while, she just keeps thinking:_ I taught you well.

Too damn well.

Anya and Raven fly out that afternoon. Lexa drives them to the airport, and Anya rides shotgun, if only to allow Raven to sit between Clarke and Octavia throughout, exchanging last minute gossip and what-not in the backseat.

Anya tries not to think about how strange this feels, sitting here with Lexa, their roles reversed for a change.

At the airport, Anya finds herself standing beside Lexa in the sidelines one last time – this time, to watch the three exchange their teary goodbyes.

“Are they really not about to see each other for a ridiculously long time?” asks Lexa, voice low and tone amused. “I mean, your wife is _crying_.”

“Only after _Clarke_ started it,” says Anya, laughing lightly herself, and Lexa nudges her shoulder playfully. “How long before Octavia caves, do you think?”

“They were together for not even forty-eight hours, and _already_ they’re syncing their periods?”

“Lexa.” Anya rolls her eyes, pushing against Lexa’s shoulder in kind. “Just because you won’t be missing me as much, doesn’t mean their emotions are _invalid_.” Lexa stills at that, before breathing out with a tell-tale gasp. “Too soon to joke about it?” Anya offers softly.

“Sorry.” Lexa looks down, stares at the floor. Above their heads, a disembodied female voice calls out a final boarding warning. “That isn’t you, is it?”

“No.” Anya shakes her head, still looking at the weepy mess around Raven. “We have time.”

Lexa looks on in kind, quiet for a bit. “My offer stands,” she says finally, breaking their silence. Anya lets out a non-committal hum. She hasn’t really thought about that; she hasn’t even told Raven yet. “I hope you’d consider.”

“I will,” says Anya, just as Clarke and Octavia seem to separate from Raven, finally. “I think we’re done here.”

“So we are.”

“No goodbyes, though?” says Anya, rubbing Lexa’s shoulder one last time before moving to join Raven. Lexa smiles, catching Anya’s hand briefly before letting her slip away, nodding wordlessly as Anya turns back to her one last time to gesture: “Call me?”

Lexa breathes in noticeably before allowing herself to smile: Wide and bright, like a good morning. “I will,” she says, waving her hand. “May we meet again.”

*

“She’s asking me to come back.”

Raven takes a moment before turning away from the plane window, but when she looks back at Anya it’s like she’s known all along. “I was wondering when Lexa would break,” she just says matter-of-factly. And then, off the unsaid question on Anya’s face: “Clarke and I have been talking too, you know.”

“And what does she have to say about it?”  

“It’s been a difficult past handful of months,” says Raven. “And Clarke’s been trying, really, just that Lexa’s been pushing her away more than usual.”

“You know how Lexa gets,” says Anya, though the phrase _pushing her away_ kind of sets off an alarm bell or two. “How has Clarke been taking that?”

“Not too well,” Raven sighs. “Though they did look quite good over Octavia’s birthday. Didn’t they?”

Anya nods. “I was about to say.” She shifts her eyes to the window just past Raven’s shoulder, watching for a brief moment as clouds roll past. “How is Clarke?”

“She wouldn’t admit to this, but this is probably why she can’t finish her works in time for Lincoln’s deadline,” says Raven. “Sometimes when she’s emotionally distracted, she finds it difficult to produce.” And then: “How is Lexa?”

Anya keeps her eyes on the clouds. “We didn’t really – she said something about the business being maddening, and making this weekend the best weekend possible for Clarke. That’s all.”

“But you’ve fixed _it_ , right?” Raven touches Anya’s wrist at that, her voice soft. “Whatever it is that broke between the two of you?”

_Your terms._ Anya shifts her eye to where Raven’s now holding her, the ring on her finger glinting under the cabin lights. “It was just a misunderstanding,” she says. “Nothing that a face-to-face explanation couldn’t clarify.”

“Jesus, that took you long enough,” Raven says, smiling as she breathes out, relieved. “You two are the worst communicators I have ever met, and you used to run a media empire together.”

“Are you saying—is that a _complaint_ about my communication skills in general?” Anya asks, though her tone is light; almost teasing. She turns her hand around in Raven’s hold, if only to scratch lightly at the underside of Raven’s wrist.

Raven laughs a little at that, shaking her head. “No, your ineptitude is thankfully confined to _each other,_ ” Raven clarifies, and Anya doesn’t know whether to laugh or worry at the comment. “Because as far as I know, you communicate well _with me._ ”

“That’s because _you’re_ a fantastic communicator,” she points out, threading her fingers into Raven’s, the gesture so _easy –_ so warm. It reminds Anya of _home_ – the house they’re flying into, and all its familiar corners; the worn couch by the window, and their perpetually unmade bed.

_Their bed._ Anya feels her spine ache at the mere prospect of _sinking_ into those covers; the weekend has been long and exhausting. “I’ve had better conversations with _stones_ , really, than with Lexa sometimes,” Anya adds, and Raven’s other hand comes up to swat at her shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

“I find it baffling how you could miscommunicate after more than 10 years of friendship.”

“You do realize we _moved_ cities after we got married.”

“Why did you stop taking her calls?”

Anya feels her insides go cold at the question.   _Raven knows._ Anya swallows hard before speaking. “I didn’t—is this what Clarke told you?”

“Look – I didn’t want you to feel like—it’s Lexa or me, you know? Just as I _know_ you’re not asking me to divorce myself from Clarke or Octavia.”

“I would _never_ —”

“And neither would I.” Raven wraps Anya’s hand in both of hers, rubbing her thumb affectionately over the back of it, over and over. “I’m glad you and Octavia seemed to get along.”

“Your friends are lovely, Raven,” Anya says, smiling. “I can’t imagine _not_ getting along with them.”

“Even if they’re ridiculous children who could not carry a tune sometimes?”

“ _Especially_ because they’re ridiculous children who could not carry a tune. At all.”

Raven laughs. “You’re _harsh,_ ” she says. “But your honesty is much appreciated.” Anya just shrugs, leaning in for a kiss, which Raven meets with a soft giggle. She is still grinning when they part. “So, what did you tell Lexa?”

“About what?”

“About going back.”

Anya takes a moment before responding. “I was thinking about asking you about it first.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my wife.”

“And you’re a veteran media professional who is perfectly capable of making her _own_ sound decisions,” says Raven. “Which is so _hot,_ by the way.”

“ _Raven._ ”

“All I’m saying is—if Clarke asked me to go back to actually _run_ the bar on site, I would.” And then: “Lexa _needs_ you. The fact that she even had to use actual words to _ask_ \--”

“I know,” Anya says, sighing. “I do kind of miss the rush.”

“Because you’re a workaholic sadist who is beyond saving,” Raven says, rolling her eyes.

Anya chuckles lightly at that. _How is Raven even managing this?_ “We’re not moving back, though,” Anya clarifies. “I already love where we live.”

“So—flying out every so often then?”

“Would you mind?”

Raven shrugs. “Remember to ask for a raise?”

_Your terms._ At this point, Anya has to laugh out loud. “Of course,” she just says, kissing Raven again.

*

They start slowly. Anya starts taking Lexa’s phone calls as a form of long-distance consultation, and they take it from there. Most nights, Lexa catches Anya while Raven’s making dinner, and many times their conversation runs so long that Lexa actually joins their meal via speakerphone.

“What is it this time?” asks Lexa. “An assortment of leaves again?”

Raven snickers. “Just because you can’t appreciate a good salad—”

“Are you having grilled things again, Lexa?” Anya cuts in, and when Lexa makes a non-committal sound, Anya just shakes her head. “What did I tell you about trying to eat healthily—”

“That’s what breakfast is for,” Lexa counters. “You’re just envious I’m having kebabs right now.”

“Oh man,” Anya sighs. “Is Gustus making them?”

“Yeah,” says Lexa. And then, her tone softening a little: “I wish Clarke were here to enjoy them with me.”

“Why? Where’s Clarke?” asks Raven, shooting Anya a worried glance from across the table. Anya quietly gestures for her to calm down – surely, it is nothing serious.

“Oh, right – about that,” says Lexa. “I thought it would be good for her if she had her own studio to work in. Maybe she could still meet Lincoln’s deadline.”

Anya watches amusedly as Raven reaches over for her glass of water. “You got Clarke her own _what_?”

“Studio,” says Lexa matter-of-factly. “Did I—was that wrong? Was that a wrong move? Jesus, Anya, you could have told me—”

Anya laughs. “I don’t think Raven’s exactly disapproving of anything.”

“Sorry, what I meant was -- holy _shit_ , Lexa,” Raven says, laughing along and coughing lightly. “You got Clarke her own _studio_.”

“I did.”

“You really are a smug motherfucker, aren’t you?” Raven adds, and Lexa finally lets out a laugh at that, like she were getting the joke only now. “So. Our girl working hard?”

_Our girl._ “You know Clarke.” Lexa sighs, and Anya immediately picks up on the soft tinge of _loneliness_ there that she must have tried to hide. When she catches Raven’s eye, she doesn’t have to say anything to tell her she heard that, too. “Hey listen,” Lexa says again, clearing her throat. “Thanks for taking my call tonight and sorry for barging into dinner – again.”

“No worries,” Raven offers first, and Anya thinks about how it’s these _little things_ that matter the most. “Just keep track of just how much you owe us, yeah?”

“And don’t forget to send those spreadsheets via email tonight,” Anya chimes in. “I want to send my comments in before you present to the board in two days.”

“Of course,” says Lexa. “I’ll get on it as soon as we get off this phone call.”

“Go ahead then.”

“All right.” And then, “Good night. And thanks -- _again_.”

Anya reaches over for her phone, still sitting in the middle of the table beside the now-empty plate of greens, and Raven just says, “We also accept paychecks as thank you!” just as Anya gets to it, and Lexa is still laughing when Anya herself ends the call.

*

Some days, Lexa catches Anya on the phone alone. In these conversations, Lexa comes across as… _tender._ Like there’s a loneliness there that’s trying to get through the line, and it simply can’t make it through the distance.

“She doesn’t—I mean, I _love_ her,” Lexa tells her once. “But sometimes, she just doesn’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“ _This,_ ” Lexa sighs, unable to keep the exasperation from her voice. “The company. What I do – what _we_ do. How fucking thankless it is – how fucking cutthroat. She doesn’t get—doesn’t get what running it entails – what it all means, what it means to _me_ , what I _need_ to be, just to be here—”

“Slow down, Lex,” says Anya, trying to soothe her. “ _Breathe_.”

Lexa takes a moment, and Anya starts her count with her voice low, just like they always have. When she finishes, Lexa breathes in deeply before exhaling, slow and long. “I’m sorry,” she sighs, but she sounds more defeated than relieved. “It isn’t even that Clarke doesn’t _want_ to understand, because she does. Asks questions, every now and then. It’s just that…” Lexa trails off, like she’s just caught herself at the edge of _something,_ and Anya presses her phone closer to her ear subconsciously.

“Just what?”

When Lexa breathes in this time, it’s like she’s about to go underwater, and Anya finds herself doing the same. “Just that—when it was you, I _never_ had to explain any of this.” And then, even more quietly, “You _get_ this.”

Anya takes a moment to be stunned at the comment. _When it was you._ She tries not to think about how that phrase used to go. _And now it isn’t._

“Ahn?”

Anya clears her throat. “I’ve had practice,” she says, keeping the tremble out. “I was new to the business, once. There was a time I understood _nothing._ ”

Lexa makes a small, humming sound; it makes Anya want to reach out to her and _touch._ On the other end of the line, Lexa stops and starts, stops and starts – like she isn’t sure how what words to use for the rest of what she has to say. “When I told her about—you did read about what we did at The Mountain, right?”

_Of course, this was going to be about that._ “Fifty-five people laid off with the merger. It was talk of the town,” says Anya. Lexa groans at the other end of the line, and Anya tries not to think about how they could _both_ use a drink right now for this conversation. “How are you, by the way?”

“Clarke thought that was a horrible decision,” she says.

Anya furrows her brow at that – she had voted for that magazine’s downgrade, as well as its subsequent reorganization. “Had it been down to me, I would have made the exact same move.”

Lexa laughs bitterly. “She looked at me like I was a _monster_ ,” she says. “ _Fifty-five people_ lost their jobs.”

“And _eighty-five_ actually kept theirs,” Anya points out. “That merger was the only way they could have.” Lexa lets out a shaky breath at that. “Had we waited, we would have had to cut more.”

“I know.”

“You did what had to be done. And you did it well.”

“I _know_.”

_Then why don’t you sound like you believe it?_ Anya bites her tongue to keep the words from getting out. “I’m sure Clarke didn’t mean it like _that_ ,” she offers. “That was a strong move, Lexa. Don’t second-guess yourself now.”

“Was it, really?”

“ _Lexa,_ ” says Anya, pausing. “You are _not_ a monster.”

“To the fifty-five, I probably am. Clarke’s right.” _No, she isn’t – you are strong and beautiful and._ Anya bites down on her tongue harder. “Here’s the part where you’re supposed to say she’ll come around, Ahn.” Anya even hears a small smile get through, and _Oh, to actually see that again._

“She’ll come around, Lex,” Anya says softly. “She loves you.”

“Yeah,” says Lexa. “Thank you. I needed to hear this today.” And then: “I needed to hear _you_ today.”

Anya looks out their window – the city is quiet tonight, but her mind is all noise and scratches. “I’m right here,” she tells Lexa over the phone, wondering if somewhere across the horizon their gazes are actually looking at the same faraway point in the sky. “You know that, right.”

“Right,” Lexa just says, staying on the line.

*

“Do you ever feel so alone with someone,” Lexa asks once.

Anya slips out of bed and goes to her spot near the window, contemplating a cigarette. With Raven out for the night for work, it is simply too easy to cave in to former habits. Anya fiddles with her lighter, tapping it against the window sill. “I suppose that’s possible.”

“Because some days she’s all I see, but it just isn’t—there’ just _something_ so closed off about how I feel about her, sometimes. Like there are parts of me that she has to _pry_ from my hands.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Does _what_ surprise me?”

“That you can feel any other way about the Clarke that you’re otherwise absolutely in love with?”

Lexa sighs. “I just—I don’t know what to do with this,” she says. “I love her, but sometimes it feels like—I don’t even know. I shouldn’t be talking about her this way.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re a team, that’s why,” says Lexa. “Clarke and I. We’re supposed to be a _united_ front.”

“Stop talking about this like it’s _business_ , Lexa,” says Anya, letting out a small laugh even. “It’s love, not a _war alliance_.”

“Then why does it feel like I have to keep fighting this feeling off?”

Anya is quiet for a moment, letting the laugh die in her throat. “Guess that only begs another question: Do you want to keep fighting?” She holds her breath for Lexa’s answer; at this point, she doesn’t want to trust the obvious. “Lexa.”

“I do,” she answers, all too softly. Anya closes her eyes and tries to imagine this Lexa out on her veranda, nursing a glass of whiskey. _Where is Clarke? Is she spending this night alone, like me?_  

“Then you _fight_ ,” says Anya, opening her eyes and finally lighting that cigarette.

*

Days go by. Lexa checks in every so often – updating on board meetings and consulting on new hardware purchases and marketing campaigns; talking about Clarke and her studio, and “joining” dinner every now and then.

“You guys should just come on over one weekend,” Raven suggests over dinner once, and Anya just keeps her eye on her risotto.  Truth be told, Lexa sounds lonelier and lonelier with every phone call – it starts feeling like she’s _checking out,_ though Anya doesn’t call her out on it; what good would that do?

On the other end of the line, Lexa manages a laugh, and Anya feels herself breathe out. It’s not really relief, but she’ll take it. “We would, if these days weren’t so _insane,_ ” she says. “Right, Ahn?” And then, “Have you told her?”

“Told me what?”

Anya rolls her eyes, mouthing _shop talk_ right at Raven. “Lexa’s asking me to fly in for the end of quarter stockholders’ meeting two weeks from now.”

“Sounds _exciting,_ ” Raven deadpans and Anya laughs into her bowl. “Maybe I could fly in as well? Might be a good time to catch up with Clarke.”

There’s the sound of flipping pages from the other end of the line; could be that Lexa is thumbing through her planner. “That weekend okay? The meeting is on a Thursday, as usual. You guys want to fly in together or does Raven have plans?”

“I’m flying in Friday night—got some last minute work stuff, unfortunately. Don’t do anything too fun without me?”

“You’re bringing all the fun with you, Raven,” Lexa replies. “Trust me.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Anya speaks up in mock offense. “I can _hear_ you.”

Lexa just chuckles. “Well. Looks like I better book those tickets, eh?”

*

It comes out of nowhere.

Raven gets home that evening and eats her dinner quietly, before announcing that she is going to bed. Anya looks at her quizzically, her stomach sinking with a hunch. _Is she ill?_ She washes the dishes before following Raven into the bedroom, padding after her softly.

“You all right?” Anya asks, tone careful. Raven says nothing; instead, she simply turns toward her, arms outstretched, beckoning Anya into a hug. _Okay, now something is definitely wrong._ Anya takes a moment to wrap Raven warmly in her arms, just tight enough for comfort, feeling for the beating in her chest. “What’s wrong?”

Raven breathes in as she pushes Anya away briefly. “What do you mean, what’s wrong?” she asks, seemingly confused.

“You’re the one who came home with a boulder on her chest,” says Anya gently. “What’s the matter?”

Raven’s eyes widen at Anya’s question, her face paling. “Oh _shit,_ ” she hisses. “Lexa hasn’t called you?”

The chill wraps quickly around Anya’s gut. “Something _happened_ to Lexa?” she asks, voice tight, gripping harder around Raven’s waist. And then, off the look on Raven’s face: “Is it—it’s _Clarke,_ isn’t it?”

*

Later, when the lights have been turned off and they’re finally under the sheets, Raven faces Anya in the dark. “Clarke called me,” she begins, finding Anya’s hand under the covers and holding it against her chest. Underneath her tank top, Anya can feel Raven’s heart beating hard. “It’s over.”

Anya reaches over and brushes her thumb against Raven’s cheekbone, wiping at the stray tear there. _Ah, shit._ Anya knows where this conversation is going, but she asks anyhow: “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” says Raven. “Clarke won’t go into details. Just that they’re done.”

“How did she—”

“Just up and left,” Raven says. “That’s what she said.”

_Shit._ Anya tries not to imagine Lexa asking her all over again: _Am I the sort of girl people leave?_ “Where’s Clarke?”

“Flying back to the bar as we speak,” says Raven. “Probably going to be there through Lincoln’s exhibit.” Raven sniffs, and Anya gathers her closer, hand light upon her shoulder. “This is so fucked—weren’t we supposed to see them _next weekend?_ ”

_God, this must be a hell of a week._ “Jesus, Clarke. What the fuck,” she just finds herself saying.

“I don’t understand it either,” Raven says. “How’s Lexa?”

Anya sighs. “If you think Lexa’s about to reach out via phone call about something like this, then you are mistaken.” _God, what a mess._ “I’m thinking about flying out to Lexa earlier, though.”

“I was thinking about suggesting that,” says Raven. “Thinking about going home to Clarke and Octavia over the weekend myself.”

_The bar._ Anya nods in the dark. _Home, elsewhere._ “You going to be okay?”

“Gotta help keep shit together,” Raven just says, and Anya lets a little laugh slip. Raven breathes out shakily, moving closer to Anya, burrowing into the crook of Anya’s neck. “You’d do the same, yeah?”

Anya just runs her fingers idly into Raven’s hair. “Yeah,” she whispers to the dark. “I would.”

*

It is an overcast day when Anya flies in, and Lexa picks her up herself. She meets Anya at the arrivals bay, standing outside her car with her sunglasses on and her arms crossed.

“I could get used to this,” Anya greets with a small smile, and Lexa offers a similarly small one in return as Anya slides into the front seat. “How was your drive?”

“Uneventful,” says Lexa, tugging her seatbelt across her, and waiting for Anya to do the same before driving on. “How was your flight?”

“Mercifully short.” Anya knows what they’re doing, of course; they’ve done this so many times through all those years, but for now Anya decides she does not mind. _Lexa needs this._ “I hope I had not messed up your schedule by deciding to fly in early.”

“Don’t be silly, Ahn,” says Lexa, turning toward her to look at her briefly. “I am glad you’re here.” Her voice as she says that – it’s like she’s twenty-five again and getting her heart broken for the first time. _Oh, what am I going to do with you._

Anya keeps her gaze straight ahead. “Me too,” she just says. And then: “Eyes on the road.”

“Yes ma’am,” says Lexa, a small smirk peeking through. Anya eyes Lexa’s hand on the gear shift between them and reaches out tentatively to touch. _We have time,_ she just thinks, fingertips resting lightly on Lexa’s knuckles.

*

“It’s like you’ve set up a satellite office here,” Anya muses as she enters the yacht after Lexa, noting all the folders strewn all over the main receiving hall. “Office not quiet enough for you?”

“People liked barging in,” says Lexa with a shrug, sliding onto the sofa and checking the last open folder before scribbling on its margin to make a note. “These days all I do is _sign_ things. It gets pretty annoying, to be interrupted all the time with even _more_ things to sign.”

“Surely after all these years, you’d already gotten used to that,” Anya says, sitting right beside her and idly checking random folders. “Budget season?”

“Budget _cut_ season,” Lexa sighs. “Can’t have overhead go unchecked—you know where that landed us the last time.”

Anya whistles low, lifting a pile of folders and sliding them over to her lap as she sinks back into the couch. “True, that was a tough time.” And then, opening a folder from her pile: “Damn, I hope you’re reading all of these before _actually_ signing them?”

Lexa chuckles. “Now _that_ part I know by heart,” she just says. “Why else are all these other folders unsigned, right?”

“Right.” Anya laughs, reading through one file after the other, and for a while, they operate in quiet like that: Anya reads and endorses, so Lexa does not have to read through everything anymore.

Before they know it, dusk is already falling, and Lexa groans as she rubs at her eyes. “I don’t think I can read anymore,” she whines.

Anya raises her brow at her. “ _Excuse_ you,” she says lightly. “But _who_ is actually reading here?” Lexa simply groans louder, elbowing Anya as she does. Anya lets out a little yelp and a small cough at the contact, before finally putting away the last of her folders. “ _Fine._ We rest.”

“There is also whiskey in the pantry,” says Lexa, eyes still closed as she leans back into the sofa. “We rest with whiskey.”

_So it begins._ Anya gets up, takes out two glasses, and watches from behind the small bar in the corner as Lexa makes room on the table. She pours for two – the night is young, and they have a long way to go. Once Lexa has finished putting her files into order, Anya approaches, handing Lexa her drink.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Anya asks finally, settling beside Lexa.

Lexa stares into her glass long and hard before downing it in one go, hissing after she swallows and wiping at her lips with the back of her hand. After a while, she just says: “No.”

Anya shrugs, pouring Lexa another. “Well then,” she just says. “We have all night.”

*

They talk about anything and everything – except Clarke. Lexa rants about the price of paper, the city’s unpredictable weather, and even the recent inconsistency of the meat shop that Gustus frequents – anything _but_ Clarke. Anya doesn’t mind – if anything, she is impressed that Lexa could handle an extended conversation even after four quick rounds of whiskey.

“Sometimes I just want to concede – _maybe_ print is dead,” says Lexa, swirling her drink in her glass before downing it. _Five,_ Anya counts quietly in her head, watching Lexa’s eyes flutter shut briefly.

“Now you are _truly_ drunk,” says Anya, smirking. Lexa has _never_ been on the digital side of the newsroom war – always preferring to uphold her father’s print bias over any other sector’s innovation. Always a sore topic, this digital divide.

“But what if it _is_ ,” says Lexa. “Goddamnit, though – time to throw in the towel? Sell off my shares, lock myself up in this boat and live as a hermit in the middle of the ocean?”

“You did _not_ pull me out of semi-retirement just to watch you go into yours,” Anya shoots back, leaning closer to fill Lexa’s glass anew, their shoulders brushing against each other warmly. Lexa just laughs, an unsteady hand on Anya’s knee.

“Oh come on – you and me in the middle of the ocean, both our phones broken. Tell me that doesn’t appeal to you _at all_.”

Anya rolls her eyes, acutely aware of the way the hand on her knee has begun tracing small circles on the surface. “Lexa.”

There’s a strange sort of electricity already in the air, this much Anya could feel, as the hand on her knee begins drifting, shifting higher upon her thigh. _This is not how I’ll lose you._ “What?” Lexa asks softly, eyes on her own hand, and Anya has to blink, trying to get her shaky hand around Lexa’s wrist.

_“Lex._ ”

“ _Ahn._ ” There’s no mistaking the _softness_ in that tone – the _need_ that’s wrapped around Lexa’s voice, already frayed along the edges. She leans into Anya heavily, the hand on Anya’s knee stopping to solidify its grip. “ _Please._ ”

Anya tries not to think: _This isn’t you;_ tries not to think, _I don’t feel like myself, either._ Right there in the yacht’s dim light, she tries _not_ to look at Lexa the way she’s always wanted: An open sea full of could-have-beens and what-ifs.

_Your terms._ Under her feet, she could feel the boat rocking gently on the water – or is that actually just her mind swimming in all this liquor? Anya can’t even tell anymore, because _now_ Lexa’s hands are _moving,_ slow and deliberate like _worship,_ and all Anya can feel are the _burns_ they seem to leave upon her skin in their wake.

_This is how it feels like to drown._

By the time Lexa’s hand reaches the back of Anya’s neck, it’s far too late – they’re too far gone, and _Anya knows_ there is no drawing back from this – the heat of Lexa’s hands slipping under her shirt; the warmth of Lexa’s mouth latched upon her collarbone. _Still here after all this time._ When Lexa skims her hand under the hem of Anya’s jeans, her body goes, _Oh,_ sinking back into the couch in surrender.

_This could be._ Amid the haze, Anya sees _that_ night in her mind again, her tongue tasting of tequila and salt. _God damn it, Lexa._ When she is jolted back to the present, Anya finds herself pinned against the couch, Lexa’s thigh between her legs; Lexa’s mouth still at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. _Oh, what a mess,_ Anya thinks dimly, scratching against Lexa’s shirt.

Now, _that_ catches Lexa’s attention – she pushes herself off Anya for a moment, and Anya finds her hands following the movement, helping Lexa along with the buttons of her shirt. _Shit._ Anya watches as Lexa shrugs out of it, lifting off Anya so she’s actually straddling Anya’s leg; like this, Anya can feel the heat coming off her, scalding that spot on her thigh, and in the end, Anya is unable to stifle a moan.

Lexa draws closer, holding Anya’s face gently in both hands. “You okay?” Anya manages to breathe out, and Lexa actually _laughs_ before leaning down for the kiss.

This time is unlike the others – it’s all teeth and tongue and through most of it, Anya couldn’t breathe. When she pulls back, Lexa follows, nipping at the corner of her mouth. “Jesus, Lex,” says Anya, struggling to keep the both of them from falling off the couch. “ _Marks._ ”

“Yeah,” Lexa just says against Anya’s skin. “Yeah, all right.” _Forget this in the morning._ Anya screws her eyes shut, inhaling deeply as Lexa helps her out of her own shirt, shivering at the feel of Lexa’s nails raking up her back.

_Fuck._ Anya tries not to think about how they’ve managed to keep _this_ at bay, all these years; how they have managed to hold on, after all this time. _Oh, how small this heart must be in my hand._

Lexa’s kisses feel like hunger; they feel like coming up for air after being underwater for so long. When Anya opens her eyes, Lexa’s looking right back at her, drunk with the moment.

“Can you do this for me?” Lexa asks softly, thumb grazing Anya’s cheekbone.

_Forget this in the morning,_ Anya tells herself.

_But for now._

For now, she breathes in; for now, she threads her fingers into Lexa’s hair and tugs her closer, whispering an even softer _Yes_ against her mouth.

*

Afterwards, when they’re wrapped in nothing but Lexa’s sheets, Anya sits up against Lexa’s headboard and lights a cigarette in bed. She takes a deep drag before handing it over, filter pinched between forefinger and thumb. Lexa stares at it for a moment before scoffing.

“Well?” Anya begins, brow raised. “Did that make you feel better?”

Lexa laughs as she reaches over for the cigarette, taking a slow drag off it before handing it back. “I’m not quite sure,” she just says as she exhales. “Did it make _you_ feel better?”

Anya just shrugs. “It was all right.”

“Fuck _off,_ ” Lexa says again, nudging Anya’s shoulder with hers, still chuckling. And then, closing her eyes as she lets her head fall back against the headboard in kind: “Just. _Fuck._ ”

Anya keeps her eyes focused on the wall across the foot of the bed, saying nothing for a while. _What else to say after a thing like that?_ “Yeah,” she manages after a long silence. And then: “Are you ready to talk about Clarke now?”

“ _Jesus,_ Anya.”

It’s Anya’s turn to laugh. “What the fuck happened, Lexa?”

Lexa shakes her head, disbelief on her face. “What do you want me to say?” she asks. “Do you want to hear about how we had basically stopped talking for a couple of weeks?”

“Lexa.”

“Where do you want me to start? Maybe at the part where I came home to find her painting on the bed and the rest of her just gone.”

“ _Lexa._ ”

“ _What?_ ” Lexa’s voice breaks at that, and Anya moves to stub her cigarette out on the ashtray sitting on the table beside the bed. Smoke hangs low in the room; it makes Anya’s eyes water, her view swimming. “You _asked_ me to say something.”

Anya puts her hand on Lexa's, holding it down against the bed between them. “I’m sorry,” she offers, resisting Lexa’s initial move to pull away. For a while, they sit there side-by-side, not speaking; their bare legs touching under the sheets. “For everything.”

Lexa just hums at that; just something to fill the air with. After a while, Lexa clears her throat. “Clarke probably knows, you know,” she says.

“Knows what?”

“About you and me.” Anya swallows hard at that. _This is not how I’ll lose you._ “She’ll probably tell Raven.”

_It’s not like I’m asking you to choose between Lexa and me._ “Leave me to worry about Raven,” Anya just says, rubbing her thumb against the underside of Lexa’s wrist, like she’s absently feeling for her pulse. “What do _you_ want to do about Clarke?”

Lexa looks up, staring at the ceiling quietly before sighing. “ _Fuck,_ ” she mutters, dropping her face in her hand. “I don’t know.” And then, softly: “Can we stop thinking? Just—just for a moment?”

Anya nods, breathing out, long and slow. “All right,” she says, gathering Lexa against her in a one-armed hug. She settles in warmly, her body curving around Anya’s. _Your terms._

“We can,” says Anya. “We can, and we will.”

_It takes as long as it takes._


	7. epilogue | we were here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you have asked about endgames, and, truth be told, at any other time with any other work, I would have known exactly what to say. Not with this one. I remember early on, in a scene at the yacht after Lexa’s father dies, Lexa talks about multiple lifetimes. She says something about her father being reborn, and souls being tied together, tethered to a general cosmic plan, where everyone is a recurring character in a play that is perpetually re-staged.
> 
> Lexa talks about meeting again and again and again.
> 
> So, what if in every lifetime, Lexa finds her way to Clarke? And what if in every lifetime, Anya is also always there? And what if there is a lifetime that it all ends differently?
> 
> This is another story entirely, and perhaps not the one that led you here, but it’s definitely the one that is leading me elsewhere after this. Meanwhile, this epilogue picks up months after the end of chapter six.
> 
> That said, thank you so much for your patience, and for your comments, and for your kind words. May we meet again.

 

It’s all temporary – this much Anya knows.

*

One windy day months later, Anya finds herself walking beside Lexa to the end of the pier where Lexa’s yacht is docked, watching the ferris wheel turn. The small park is full of people – children running around, their parents walking after them; a handful of teenagers, walking shyly hand-in-hand. Anya turns her head at those – _how lovely to be young; the slate wiped clean._ The air smells of fresh popcorn and cotton candy.

“Do you remember the first time you visited this place?” Lexa asks. It’s one of those rare afternoons that she’s dressed down – a loose button-down over khaki shorts and her sneakers; the wind in her face. There’s a small smile on her lips as she looks up, beholding the ferris wheel as they walk closer, hands lazily linked. “My father took me to go, the first time.”

Anya just hums in acknowledgement, tugging lightly at Lexa’s hand. Her first time here had been nothing out of the ordinary; just a totally forgettable thing with old friends. When she looks at Lexa, she seems deep in thought; she looks like she’s thinking of Alexander. “You miss him,” says Anya softly, watching Lexa’s throat move as she swallows hard, nodding. “You all right?”

Lexa breathes in deep and exhales long and slow; Anya feels her stomach sinking in anticipation. “I’m thinking about selling the yacht.”

_The yacht._ Sure, it’s seen better days, but Anya can’t say that she didn’t see this coming. “You loved that yacht,” she just says, quite unhelpfully; unable to get a hold of the words quick enough. Lexa sighs, and for a quiet while they wait for the next ferris wheel round. Anya bites her tongue throughout.

When their empty carriage comes into view, Lexa lets Anya climb in first. “I still do,” Lexa says softly, just as the ferris wheel begins its slow ascent. Anya looks out – from here they can see where the yacht is docked at the pier; the late afternoon sun bouncing off the waters, a beautiful splash of gold over the surface.

“Time to let it go, hm?” asks Anya.

“Something like that,” Lexa just says. And then: “I thought I should tell you first.”

Anya lets out a little laugh at that. “You really didn’t have to.”

“It’s technically _our_ yacht.”

“You think?” It comes out softer than intended, and Anya kicks herself mentally for the way that sounded. _Too old for this sort of sentimentality,_ she chides herself. _It’s not like we lived there._

_Not like it was home._ The word comes into Anya’s mind unbidden, and she feels a certain twinge in her chest. Beside her, Lexa keeps her eyes on the horizon. The sun is about ready to start setting.

“Well, it will always hold some interesting memories,” says Lexa, attempting to veer toward a _lightness_ that Anya sees through anyhow. When Lexa clears her throat, Anya spies the beginning of tears in the corner of Lexa’s eye, and Anya promptly looks away.

“Yeah,” Anya concedes. “But you don’t need that yacht to hold onto _all that._ ”

To Anya’s surprise, Lexa actually turns her head to look at her, hand sliding automatically into Anya’s, resting idly between them on the small plastic seat. “I don’t need the yacht to remember you,” she just says. And then: “Some nights, I wonder if that’s a good thing.”

Anya tries to keep the wince out of her face, but she feels the corner of her lips being tugged, anyhow; the frown quivering at the edge of it. “Is it?” asks Anya, and Lexa simply looks at her, mildly confused. “I meant—remembering. Is it a good thing?”

Lexa shrugs. “A necessary burden of time,” she just says.

Some days, Anya sees Lexa carrying this all too haunted look that she has to wonder: _Does she remember all of it now, like I do?_ After all, some nights, it’s all Anya dreams about – Lexa, in a different place, a different time, carrying a different name and a different _weight –_ all of it too detailed and _real_ to have been purely imagined.

_Maybe we’ll get it right in the next lifetime,_ Anya thinks, wondering: If the lifetimes had come to her earlier, would it have made a difference? Armed with strange knowledge that in any of the other lives, Lexa would never really be hers anyway, would she have done this lifetime differently?

Would she have tried harder, or would she have stopped right before it even began – would she have walked out of Alexander’s room at twenty-eight, had she known this would all feel like wildfire, razing everything it touched and leaving nothing behind?

_Perhaps this is no different than that time we set Rome on fire._

_Far too long ago for regrets,_ Anya thinks, blinking as the ferris wheel halts for a moment, their carriage on the very top. From here, she could see the whole shore; Lexa’s yacht, but a speck in the water.

_Perhaps it is what it is._

“Some nights, I dream about us,” Lexa starts speaking, her voice soft like the night that is slowly falling. “We are someplace else, not here. We are not ourselves, and we are not our burdens.” Anya swallows hard at that. _Lexa knows._ “Some nights, it feels like it’s all been done before.” And then, putting a tentative hand on Anya’s knee: “Do you ever feel that way?”

Anya’s throat is dry. “Do I ever feel _which_ way?”

“Like there is nothing we can do.”

_Maybe not this lifetime._ “Lexa.”

“How do your dreams feel like, Ahn?”

_Lexa knows._ Anya thinks back to the first time they met, right there in Alexander’s office; thinks back to that first night in her apartment, with Lexa so young and uninitiated to whiskey. All of it passes through her quickly, like a deck of cards scattering in the wind.

“How does it feel like?” Lexa just asks again.

“Like we are bigger than this.” Anya looks for Lexa’s eyes in the almost-dark, and when she does, it’s like she’s seeing her for the first time – like they’re young again and meeting _elsewhere_. A blank page, finally.

_How about that?_ Anya almost asks. _How about that do-over, now?_

“If you knew it would end like this, every time – would you still come find me anyway?”

“In every life,” says Anya. “In every life, in a heartbeat.”

*

Lexa seeks Clarke out, after a while; of course, she _does._ Anya isn’t really surprised, but it stings, anyhow.

“It’s not what you think it is,” Lexa explains before leaving. They are sitting in Anya’s office, taking care of transition. The terms of this separation: That their line goes completely silent while Lexa’s mending; that Anya gets onboard in her stead to keep the company running.

That it takes as long as it takes.

*

“I’m not asking her to take me back,” she tells Anya -- this time, on the night before she leaves. The yacht is gone so they’re back to drinking on Lexa’s veranda, looking out at the city lights. The dark helps disguise the drunk blush on Lexa’s cheek. She’s sitting across Anya, just far enough to be out of reach. Anya thinks it’s for the best.

“Then what is it for?” asks Anya.

Lexa shakes her head, looking into her empty glass. “A proper ending for this lifetime,” she just says. “Everybody deserves that, don’t you think?”

*

Some nights, Anya finds herself staring at Lexa’s empty chair before going home – Lexa’s been gone for too long, though Anya is quick to remind herself that this isn’t the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last.

That night, when she feels for her phone in her pocket, right on cue it rings; there’s a little jolt to her heart just at the sound of it.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

Sighing, Anya presses the phone closer to her ear. “Hey,” she just says, softer still. “How was your day?” There’s a laugh at the other end, followed by Raven’s lazy murmurs, and Anya finds herself closing her eyes at the sounds.

True -- some nights are harder than others, this much Anya knows, but tonight she still has _Raven_ , and perhaps, there are indeed worse ways to spend a night. #

 


End file.
